


Fresh as a bridegroom

by snowbryneich



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:31:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbryneich/pseuds/snowbryneich
Summary: AU from the End of Curse of the Black Pearl in which Elizabeth and Will did seize an opportune moment but Will dies from an infection in his cut hand on the way home leaving Elizabeth in need of a husband and father for their coming child - but not too appreciative of having one when James honours their engagement. (Inspired by the ITV show Breathless)Now Complete!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I said I was starting no new fics until I finished one but then sleepylotus watched Breathless and I remember I had an idea based on that and here we are. 
> 
> Very loosely based on ITV's Breathless so slightly spoilery for that I guess!

James woke to find a tousled blond head on the pillow beside him – wide brown eyes blinked innocently at him. “Mother said it is too early,” Weatherby told him brightly. “And to come and wake you if I must be up at this hour.”

James had gotten home from the fort in the dark of the night but Elizabeth was not to know that he supposed and he was never able to say no to their son. “Did she now?” James said sitting up and ruffling Weatherby’s hair. It needed cut but James knew better than to make suggest this to Elizabeth who would ignore it on principle. “And what did you have planned for this fine morning?”

But he got no answer as Weatherby had already run off to dress having enlisted his father in whatever scheme he had planned.

 

They had spent the morning in the garden, Elizabeth had been teaching Weatherby archery during James’ last tour and he was eager to show off his skills, sulking a little when a maid called them in for breakfast. “Father,” Weatherby said innocently. “How old were you when you learnt to use a sword?”

“I was eight,” James replied without thinking, only for Weatherby to stare up at him outraged.

“I’ve been eight for months!” he said hotly. “When do I learn?” He was every inch Elizabeth’s son, James reflected – not for the first time.

“Eight going on nine,” James amended, knowing full well that would not placate Weatherby one bit. “I will see what we can do.” This settled Weatherby enough to get him to breakfast without fuss, where Elizabeth – after several more hours sleep was delighted to see her son and hear about his morning. James very rarely got a word in edgeways – most mornings he did not try, though he enjoyed watching them.

 

Elizabeth had with time, to his relief, learned to conceal her distaste for him in front of Weatherby which meant meals, where their son was present were much more pleasant. James felt slightly ashamed to use a child as a shield but as long as Weatherby remained ignorant of the difficulties in his parent’s marriage he could not feel any alteration was required. James would have to speak to Elizabeth alone about his teaching Weatherby swordmanship, or she would feel forced into saying yes and that would only cause further tension. It took very little for Elizabeth to take offense if decisions were made without her.

After Weatherby had been sent off to join his tutor, Elizabeth turned to him which was unusual in itself. “My father has invited us to dinner on Saturday,” she said quietly. “To celebrate our anniversary.” There was a twist in her voice there – as if James did not know her opinion of their marriage.

“I am happy to attend,” he said wondering if he should offer work as an excuse, but Elizabeth seemed if not happy with that answer not particularly displeased which was as much as he could hope for in any circumstance.

His father in law was the only one who found anything to celebrate about their union, James was sure. Given the alternative. When they had returned home nine years ago, James had every intention of calling off the match as soon as it was seemly given after her misadventure with pirates. As soon as it would seem like a mismatch and not a judgment on what had happened to her. It had seemed an eminently sensible plan and if James was wounded by the idea of losing her, he would much rather know how she felt than marry her all unwilling. Though of course, in the end, he had.

 

 

* * *

 

It had been a month after their return to Port Royal. Thirty-three days since William Turner’s death. Two weeks exactly after Jack Sparrow’s hanging when Elizabeth had called on him alone and given him the news that meant his ending of the engagement was impossible.

James had been expecting her call. Her reaction to William Turner’s death had made clear however unconditional she had said her acceptance was, she did not return his regard. He would never have held her to the engagement. But she had not called to reject him. Instead, she had informed him she was with child. Turner’s child. That she would not hold him to his offer. Her eyes had been red but she had been quite determined. She did not want his pity.

She had his pity any way of course. He had marvelled at her bravery really, to be determined to do this alone – he had no idea what her father thought of her plans.

James regretted William Turner’s death – he had been so young. Elizabeth’s grief had had her lashing out at anyone on the ship. Her father, himself, the surgeon.

James had offered William Turner the services of the ship's surgeon when he had been brought aboard. Turner had refused, claimed he was uninjured. James could admit he would not have seen the surgeon for a shallow cut on the hand either, not at once.

But he would have had the sense to go when the wound became _infected_. But by the time, Elizabeth insisted Turner saw the surgeon the blood poisoning had taken hold and the fever took him within three days.

 

So, James had married Elizabeth anyway of course, what kind of a man could abandon a pregnant woman to disgrace. And she had seemed so vulnerable. James had thought that eventually, they might rub along together. A marriage of convenience was not what he had wanted but it had seemed preferable to leaving the woman he loved to her fate as an unwed mother. He had said his offer stood and he would treat the child as his own.

He had not realised then that she despised him. Their early marriage had been manageable. Elizabeth had been ill for most of her pregnancy and spent much of the time abed and was tearful when not. He had attempted to offer comfort as much as he could but it was rare Elizabeth accepted it. It was a rare occasion that she accepted but sometimes she had. Coming into his arms to cry while he rubbed at her back and had no idea what to say. Most of the time though she would dry her eyes and claim she was fine whenever he was present. He had not pushed. But as difficult it had been, Weatherby had been born hale and healthy – he had been late which had helped the talk even if it had not improved Elizabeth’s temper any. James approved of the name which he was not consulted on – he had lived in fear she would name a boy William, despite the gossip that doing so would generate. That was then things had changed.

 

James had barely seen the baby for the first year of his life. Elizabeth had kept him close to her which was natural of course and she doted on her son fiercely. It had taken him sometime to realise she was keeping the child away from him. He had gotten to hold him when he was a few weeks old – because he had _asked_ and Elizabeth had begrudgingly handed him over and demanded him back after hardly any time at all. Then he had found himself locked out of the nursery.

The christening had been the next occasion he’d seen Weatherby or Elizabeth. Who seemed much more herself. She had spent her pregnancy ill and grief stricken and sad but now the baby was here she seemed to have come through her grief. When they had arrived home from church James had asked again to hold the baby. Elizabeth had looked at him as if he were stupid. “Weatherby is _my_ son,” Elizabeth had said firmly and whisked away with the baby back to the nursery.

 

It had shocked James, and if he admitted it, it had hurt too. He was well aware Elizabeth had no interest in him as a husband. Even without her condition when they first wed, he had not expected she would truly be his wife. But he had promised her solemnly he would treat the child as his own during the pregnancy and she had not raised a single objection previously. Surely, she could not think it better Weatherby had _no_ father.

But James did not say this to his wife who continued to make her distaste for him clear more than clear. He saw Weatherby on the odd occasion when the Governor visited to dote on his grandson and after a month of keeping his distance as she required the nursery was no longer locked and so James could visit when the baby was asleep. He had not been sure how to tackle this with Elizabeth when he had received orders. Then he was at sea for the remainder of Weatherby’s first year. He had swallowed his pride before he left to ask Elizabeth to write if only to assure of her and Weatherby’s health. She did not say she wouldn’t but no correspondence was forthcoming.

James had arrived home shortly after Weatherby’s first birthday and was startled when he came in the house to see a sturdy toddler scampering along the hall, laughing merrily. In his head Weatherby had been fixed as the sleepy infant he had seen content in Elizabeth’s arms or in settled in his cradle. Weatherby had run straight to his leg and shouted, “up,” and James had scooped him up without thinking to be examined thoroughly by the small boy who had gripped at him tightly and then poked him in the eye.

It was only then he noticed Elizabeth watching them and while he was sure he had earned her ire she came to his side mimed a kiss on his cheek – she was careful not to actually touch him. She took Weatherby out of his arms and bounced him gently. “Look, Weatherby,” she said brightly. “Your father is home.” Weatherby had stuck his fingers in his mouth while still staring at James.

After that James had been allowed occasional visits from Weatherby – more usually under the nurse’s supervision than Elizabeth’s. Eventually, he surmised that the Governor had made his daughter see sense. But James was grateful none the less.

 

As Weatherby got older, Elizabeth seemed to accept his relationship with _her_ son and James was permitted to be a father to Weatherby.

It helped of course that James was so often away. He missed Weatherby when he was at sea – every time he returned he had grown so much. But being away from Elizabeth was a relief. And he thought his regular absences helped her ability to tolerate him when he _was_ home.

It would be easier for him of course if he no longer cared for her. If he merely found her tolerable her disdain would not be so hard to bear. But no matter how clear she made her feelings, he loved her still.

 

James had continued to write to her every tour, and swallowing his pride he had requested some return to this correspondence each time he sailed until he had made the mistake of pointing out what it looked like – that she made no attempt to contact him. He had received his first and only letter from her on that tour. Not that it was truly a letter, of course, being three words long.

‘ _For appearance's sake.’_

Elizabeth had not even signed it. James felt foolish for being so stung by the missive. It would have cost her nothing to write a short note about the house or their son.  Those were the only topics of conversations they shared. And that had been the last time he asked her for anything.

 

Though on occasion Elizabeth would offer him something. This always went badly. Shortly after Weatherby’s third birthday – the first James was home for in which they had managed to spend a perfectly civil day spoiling Weatherby and fussing over him. Elizabeth had come to his room that night. James had assumed that perhaps she had something to say to him. Things had seemed positive that day. And it had started well.

“Today was lovely” she had said quietly. “You are a good father, James. A good husband.” There was a note in her voice. James supposed it mattered very little that he was a good husband when she was not the husband she had wanted but he was glad to have her affirm she did not regret her choice. Until she continued anyway. “I’m very grateful,” she said. Then she had removed her wrap and stood there in nothing but her night rail. “I will be a better wife,” she said. “Do my duty.” She sat on his bed and watched him. She looked terrified for all she was hiding it as best she could – watching him like a cornered animal.   

“No,” James said when he gathered his wits enough to speak. He had been shaken by the offer – that she though so little of him that he would want her in his bed out of duty or gratitude. “That is not necessary.” He offered her the wrap back. He was flushing like a green boy.

“I would like to get it over with,” Elizabeth had said in a tired voice.

“There is nothing to get over with,” James said unable to stop a hint of temper creeping in. “This is not the sort of marriage we have. You do not have to be grateful or dutiful.”

Elizabeth had only looked sceptical – she did not even have the grace to look relieved as it was so unbelievable that he could resist her. Her opinion of him was clearly even lower than he thought.

“I have never taken an unwilling woman to bed, Elizabeth,” he said. “And I never will. You are without obligation in that arena. Utterly.”

Elizabeth had left without a further word. James had laid awake half the night feeling insulted. They had been married for nearly four years. What made her think he was about to make demands on her now.

And so they had continued on. Cautiously. James did nothing with Weatherby that Elizabeth did not know and approve of and with this control in her hands, James taught Weatherby to swim and climb and Elizabeth taught him the rudiments of reading before a tutor was hired.

Weatherby did not ever question why he so often had the attention of one parent or another but not both. Another benefit of James’ long absences he supposed. Elizabeth could hate having him for her husband for the rest of their lives but James would always be grateful she had allowed him to share Weatherby.

 

* * *

 

The day after he had secured permission to begin Weatherby’s sword training, Elizabeth seemed to be edging towards offering him something again. She had walked into town with him when he went to order wasters. She had taken his arm without the typical long pause that signalled her reluctance. When they called into the bookshop together, she had leaned over and brushed a speck of dust off his jacket and let her touch stay there just a moment.

James wished he could believe that it was some softening towards him, that perhaps she had accepted their life was comfortable. But he knew her too well and he could only wonder what she was planning. She was usually quite direct if she actually wanted something from him, usually money – she outspent her allowance most months despite the fact James had doubled it twice since they married. Nor did he have any idea what she spent this on – she dressed as plainly as she possibly could for their station, had any household goods billed to him and never attended any event when he was away at sea.

He had wondered at one point if it was a deliberate attempt. To provoke him into asking her where all the money went. But James was resolute that he would never ask her anything that was not to do with Weatherby. If she asked for more money he gave her it and refused to even appear curious. Between her dowry – which he would have signed over entirely if she asked, his prize money which invested in funds and a small inheritance from his mother’s father she was not likely to outrun his income, no matter how much she tried.  

 

Several days of hesitant affection passed while James regarded his wife baffled and waited for the next step in whatever she had plotted would be. It was the day before their anniversary that Elizabeth’s patience with fussing over him and being pleasant ran out.

“I would like another child,” Elizabeth told him at the breakfast table, the instant Weatherby had left for the schoolroom. The staff had not left, of course, so they had an audience for this conversation.

“Oh,” James said startled. He certainly did not object to the idea but he hardly believed it coming from her. Then it dawned on him what she was actually asking. “I would welcome another child,” he said, waiting for the footman to leave with the dishes. “As long as you are suitably discreet.”

Elizabeth could be a bit of a flirt at parties and James had never let himself wonder if she had a lover. It would not be more of a blow if she did. She hated him – what did it matter if she loved someone else.

“Discreet?” Elizabeth said in an odd tone and then understanding dawned and her tone cooled. “You think I have a lover!” She all but spat the words.

“No,” James said. “But if you wish to be with child then,” Her furious face told him he had misread the situation.

“You would not wish to father the child yourself?” she asked incredulously.

 James felt he had nothing to lose by answering her honestly.

“No.” He had considered it – when they were first married before Weatherby was born. If he might suggest more children. Before he realised how much he would love Weatherby regardless of whose blood he carried. Before he realised how much she hated him. The idea of Elizabeth lying beneath him hating his every touch, flinching and looking away and tolerating his attentions only for a child revolted him. And she would only use it as a chance to draw Weatherby closer to her in an argument if James had a child that was his by blood. Or to act as if he doesn’t love Weatherby as his own. He cannot see any way it would go well. “No, I would not,” he affirmed.

Elizabeth left the room without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth does not give up on her plan so easily.

Elizabeth had ignored James since her proposition had been declined. She was even cool to him in front of Weatherby which was new and hardly promising. Then she started coming up with ideas. As if he could be tempted into this notion. He did not know why she was so set on him fathering her child when she clearly barely tolerated him.

“What if I said we could name a boy James?” Elizabeth offered. “Or Laurence for your father?”

“I assume you will name any child you bear as you did Weatherby.” James had answered. “But I would prefer neither of those names.” She was entirely mistaken if she thought his relationship with his father was anything like her own. And while it was common he had always thought naming children after yourself was vain.

Her next attempt in his room at midnight in nothing but a nightgown. “I would let you do anything you like?” Elizabeth had offered. “Even things that might not result in a child as long as we do that too.” Her clear discomfort was as off-putting as her words. He did not know why she was pursuing this. Why she thought this of all things would tempt him.

“I think I have made my preference clear,” James said and he wrapped her up in his own dressing robe before steering her toward the door.

 

Three days after that night time visit from her, they attend a ball. James was rather dreading it. Elizabeth usually put on a good front in public but evenings out with her are usually awkward. This one would no doubt be more so.

Elizabeth was tipsy when he helped her up into the carriage, and drunk before the first set. James doubted she would grant him a dance tonight so he did not ask and found himself watching his wife across the ballroom, struck as always by her loveliness. Elizabeth had as always dressed in rather subdued fashion. No fripperies or ribbons or embroidery. She had never worn any of the jewellery he had dutifully presented her with at Christmas, birthdays or anniversaries.

Somehow this only served to highlight her beauty. She did not need adornment. And she seemed to be making it her mission this evening to flirt with every officer present excepting of course himself.

James said nothing and pretended he did not notice that his wife was drunk and throwing herself at his subordinates. This was likely her revenge for asking her to be discreet. But she had been a steady part of society for years now without causing any scandal. Her reputation would survive an evening’s acting out. And if not he would defend it at sword point. It was what he owed her as her husband.

 

Elizabeth looked nearly green in the carriage on the way home. It was only once they arrived home and she leant hard on the hand he offered her as always instead of ignoring it as she usually did that he realised how drunk she was. Even out of the carriage she could not find her feet swaying unsteadily and James scooped her up to take her in the house. She stiffened in his arms as if she was trying to shrink away from him even while in his arms. If James needed any confirmation of his decision that would certainly do it. But insulted as he was, he cannot bear the idea she was frightened of him.  “I am only helping you upstairs,” he told her gently.

He set her down on her bed and sent her maid for some fresh water and coffee. Elizabeth stretched on the bed and free from his touch seemed free to taunt him further. “Have you sent her away because you plan to undress me yourself.”

“No,” James said shortly. “I have sent her for coffee and water in hopes of making tomorrow morning less unpleasant for you.” Elizabeth made a face and James regretted speaking. Now she would probably drink neither. But as she was displeased with him anyway – when was she not, he brought up another topic. “Perhaps I was unclear in my previous request – when I said discreet I rather meant for you to exclude the men of my command from your selection.”

Elizabeth glowered at him for a moment, James thought he had almost guaranteed that he would be cuckolded by a fellow officer until she sneered. “As if I would subject myself to such,” she said. “One naval bore is quite enough in my life.” James left without another word - let her maid deal with her mood.

 

James was woken the next day by Weatherby who informed him helpfully. “Mother is not feeling well. She says to breakfast without her.” Weatherby was already dressed and James threw caution to the wind.

“Indeed,” he said. “Perhaps we should let your Mother rest. Would you like to come to the Fort with me today?” He knew the answer of course. Weatherby liked nothing better than to come to Fort Charles and spend the day exploring and volunteering to be a message boy. And trying to sneak into the armoury. James had taken him less since his tutor was hired but Weatherby was a bright boy – a day off from lessons won’t hurt him.

 

It was difficult sometimes with Weatherby not to think on Elizabeth’s offer. James had no real idea if she plans to follow through with taking a lover or if she had abandoned the plan after being unable to persuade him – assuming, of course, she did not have further attempts planned. Though admittedly that seemed unlikely. Elizabeth was nothing if not determined. But Weatherby was a sociable child and would enjoy a sibling James was sure. It was an odd feeling to _want_ his wife to be unfaithful.

After a day at the Fort of Weatherby playing messenger, clambering over James’ desk and making a better attempt at navigation calculations than James could have at twelve, he vanished from under his father’s eye to recruit one of the ship’s boys into a game of huzzlecaps. James watched from the battlements, once he spotted him, torn between making sure that the boy, young Thompson, he thought it was got his money back or letting it serve as a salutary lesson against gambling. Weatherby was an uncannily accurate shot and had been several pennies up before James had even noticed the game going.

He was interrupted in his observation by Lt Groves who asked him for a private word. James could not help but be wary – Groves had been the officer who Elizabeth had flirted with most the night before and James could only imagine Theo was working up to bringing this up.

So, it was unexpected when Theo started awkwardly. “I do not mean to pry James but whatever arrangements you have – your wife appears to be on to you.” James stared at Theo as he flushed red. “I do not mean to be forward – but she was quite determined last night to find out who your mistress is?”

“I do not have a mistress,” James said incredulously.

“I said that,” Theo Groves said hurriedly looking rather like he wished he was anywhere else but here. “But she accused me of lying for you – she was most aggrieved.” James sighed. This was how she had taken his advice then. That because he had suggested she take a lover she assumed he already had one.

“I am sorry,” James offered. “it is a misunderstanding. I will talk to her.” Theo looked relieved and escaped back to duty. James was left standing baffled again by his wife. It was not that he had never been tempted. He was away so often and Elizabeth detested him and he had occasionally thought she would not care what he did. But he cared. He had made a vow. And of course, he could not imagine bedding any woman without thinking of Elizabeth which made the whole thing an exercise in torment he had decided against.

 

By the time Weatherby was extricated from his game he had won six pence and a bag of clay marbles from the young Thompson. James decided he would pay the boy the money and the loss of the marbles would serve as a lesson. Weatherby had also acquired a smear of tar on his jacket, another on his cheek and had obtained a paper twist full of barley sugar from somewhere. He spent the walk home trying to eat as much of it as he could. James did not have the heart to confiscate it so that Weatherby would eat his dinner but he did send him straight upstairs to bathe knowing full well that his nurse would not be so lenient with the sweets. Weatherby was just as aware and he dragged his feet on the stairs while doing his best to push barley sugar in his mouth.

 

Elizabeth was in the garden reading and James went out to speak to her. “Elizabeth, might I have a word?” She set her book down wordlessly and looked at him, there were shadows under her eyes. She had had a poor night after all. “I do not have a mistress,” James said. It was the oddest conversation to have. “Or any other arrangement. That was not why I said what I did.”

“I know,” Elizabeth said only surprising him more. “I know you, James Norrington. I know you keep your word.”

James stood silently for a moment. He had no idea why she would start such an inquiry if she did not think it.

“It’s deeply unpleasant,” she added pointedly. “isn’t it. To be thought of as faithless. Whatever I have done in the past – you cannot deny I have been a good wife.” James felt guilty at this point – he had not considered she would be insulted. He did not think she would care one bit what he thought either way. Elizabeth carried on.  “I have done everything I am supposed to - that you have permitted anyway. It is not my fault you do not want a blacksmith’s leavings.”

 

This was a new accusation and James stared.  “You think I do not want you?” He nearly spat the words and immediately wished he could recall them. It hardly helped to let he know how much of an upper hand she had. “You flinch if I so much as take your hand.”

“That is not true,” she said but her cheeks flushed because it was true and they both knew it. “You never had any intention of my being your wife in truth. From the moment we wed, you never showed any sign you wanted me.”

“And when would have been the best time to show you?” James asked her bluntly. “When you were swollen with child and grief stricken. Or when you were recovering from the birth and doing your level best to keep Weatherby away from me?”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said. “You have never forgiven me that have you. Not even now when he is your constant shadow. When he tells me he is joining the Navy – just as soon as he is twelve.”

Weatherby had never said such to him, James thought, a little surprised. Though not very considering Weatherby’s interests and Weatherby might know enough to know James would never encourage him in such a plan.

 “He is not going anywhere at twelve,” he said stepping a little closer. He was always confused when Elizabeth was upset or agitated. He wanted to comfort her but was aware nothing coming from could be a comfort.

“You would use your influence for him though?” Elizabeth said suddenly startling him when she had been so against it only a moment ago. “If he went to sea?” She sounded so unsure – rare enough in itself.

 

“Of course, I would – if he is determined.” James did not think they could out-stubborn their son if he was determined to serve in the Navy. It was not a career he could exactly speak against and for all his career had been something chosen by _his_ father, James could not think of any life that would have suited him better. “But I think it is unlikely whatever his current interest Elizabeth. He hardly needs to join the military. That is a younger sons lot.”

“Or a bastard’s,” Elizabeth said pointedly. James had no idea where that had come from. He had never regarded Weatherby as such. “I see you updating that Bible,” she said in a small voice. James glanced at her. “Every time your brother’s give you yet another niece or nephew.” It was true that James did dutifully transcribe each child his mother wrote about onto the family tree in the inset of the Bible, she had sent him off to sea with. Just as he had written Weatherby’s name when he was born. “You have plenty of children you are actually related to,” she said.

“Who have fathers of their own,” James said. This was an accusation he had not expected. “Weatherby is my heir – Elizabeth. I do not care about his bloodline. He’s not a horse. I love him like he is my own son.” This of course got no response. “I will provide you with a copy of my will,” he added. It was pointless feeling angry that Elizabeth still did not trust him. It was pointless expecting anything from her but accusations and spite.

“Please do,” she said coldly and stalked inside the house.

Dinner could have been awkward that night if anyone attended. Weatherby stayed in the nursery, given something mild due to a stomach ache, which James did feel a slight hint of guilt over. James took a tray in his study claiming an excess of work. Elizabeth never ate a proper meal when she was in a temper but would probably go to bed drunk. He sent a copy of his will along to her chamber anyway. Both she and Weatherby are provided for with only a few bequests to his family. At least she could be satisfied on that front.

 

That night, when he woke to the weight of someone else on his bed he fully expected it to be Weatherby. He wanders occasionally at night and comes to either him or Elizabeth demanding stories or attention. It was only when Elizabeth’s hand touched his face he realised it was not their son. She leaned over him and pressed the briefest of kisses to his lips. “I am not afraid of you,” she whispered. “And I do not flinch.” And then she was gone and James lay awake for most of the night wondering what that was in aid of.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James continues to be pleasantly puzzled by his wife

Elizabeth’s night time visits become a regular occurrence after that first declaration. Sometimes they are like that first visit, nothing but a brief kiss. Sometimes she seemed to lie watching him or fussing with his hair. Every now and again she slept beside him for part of the night – she was always gone when he woke.

Sometimes she even slept in his arms. Which he could not entirely blame her for – it was always him holding her when he woke to find her that close. Apparently, he was unable to resist her when she was there and his guard was down. It made him worry about what this was leading too. Afterwards anyway – in the moment it was hard not to enjoy the feel of her in his arms, soft and sleepy and not drawing away from him one bit.

 

* * *

 

Before this, there had only been a single night they had spent together. Early in their marriage when Elizabeth had been large with child and prone to outbursts of grief. She had come to him one night overcome with sobs and climbed into his bed and curled into his arms without a word except for her noisy tears. James had held her close and patted her back feeling entirely helpless. Then he had noticed the rather rapid shifting of the child inside her, so much so that James could feel it where she was pressed against him. “Elizabeth,” he had murmured against her hair, “this cannot be good for the child. Take a deep breath,” she had and then another and she had managed to calm somewhat. But the child didn’t still at all and James worried she was only hiding her upset. Somehow once Elizabeth had dried her eyes she noticed his concern and she pressed one of her hands to his belly. “It is nearly always like this,” she said quietly. “Never a moment’s stillness it seems.”

James had left his hand there as long as he dared. He had seen her invite her father to feel the child moving and her maid too. It was the first time he had been allowed such. “I’m sure that means he is strong.” James had said though of course, he knew no such thing. He hardly thought to say that a fidgety child was only taking after his mother would be considered comforting. “And healthy.” Elizabeth had smiled then – a rare sight indeed and curled up on his chest and gone to sleep finding him a comfortable pillow it seemed. She had stayed the whole night and even been pleasant the next morning. James dreamt of it sometimes. Which meant every time he woke in the middle of the night to find Elizabeth in his arms now, he was never quite certain if it was a dream. Then she’d shift sleepily and James would realise she was really here.

* * *

 

The first night she stayed the whole night in his arms – when he woke to find her still there instead of a cold bed where she had been. James thought he would have to say something. He did not know how long he would hold out against seduction attempts when Elizabeth was in his arms and had moved past her distaste for him. He worried she had only learned to hide it.

But he would not be tackling that in this moment because what had woken him was Weatherby who seemed entirely delighted to see them together. “Good morning Father,” he said brightly clambering in the bed and settling himself in between his parents. “Good morning Mother,” he added as Elizabeth made a non-committal noise and pressed her face into the pillow. Weatherby, of course, was undeterred. “Did you have a bad dream?” he asked clearly thinking her presence was for reasons similar for his own night time wanderings.

“No,” Elizabeth said defeated, sitting up to drag Weatherby into her arms and tickle him. “I just like having your father close sometimes.” She leans over to kiss James’ cheek.

“Yuck!” Weatherby exclaimed squirming out of her arms. “Mother!”

“Yuck?” said Elizabeth with pretend outrage. And she captured Weatherby again to plant a big kiss on his cheek causing him to scrub at his cheek vigorously with the sleeve of his nightshirt.

“I am too old for soppiness Mother,” Weatherby said with a belated attempt at dignity. “Tell her Father!”

“Certainly not,” James said. “Is that how a well brought up young man speaks to his mother?”

“Maybe,” said Weatherby. “I’m well brought up and I say what I like.” James cannot say this was untrue and any attempt at scolding was completely undone by Elizabeth’s laughter.  

“Clearly a family tradition,” James said unable to hide his own amusement. Only for them to both pounce on him as if outraged.

 

When Weatherby was sent back to the nursery to dress, Elizabeth lies back on his bed watching him. James wondered if his mild scold might earn her disapproval.

“He is not just like me you know,” Elizabeth said. “He’s much more honest. I would have denied any wrong doing until I was blue in the face at that age.” James nods. He would like to think she was speaking of him but it was not as if Will Turner had a dishonest bone in his body until he took up piracy on her behalf. “I do know,” she said gently. “That there is more to it than blood. I just didn’t want to assume. I seem to get it wrong every time I do.”

And then she slipped out of bed and through the adjoining door that James never imagined would get used.

 

That morning was the first time he noticed something else about Elizabeth’s dress. While she dressed appropriately for her station during the day, whenever he caught a glimpse of her in her linen it was threadbare. She only seemed to have one wrap which he knew she had had at least since her first proposition. Most of her nightgowns are darned or patched and one of them was so worn that if she stayed until morning in it – James could make out every curve of her body unless he turned away from her. It was another puzzle. As was her room the odd occasion he caught a glimpse of it now she was back and forth. There are paintings missing – of course, she might not have liked them but why had she not replaced them. The bookshelf he ordered for her to keep her own choice of books close by was utterly empty.

But he had cautiously started to regard her visits as a sign of progress and he knew questioning her would undo that. There was a genuine fondness in her behaviour, unless he was deluding himself. In her kisses and the way she stole the covers knowing he would kick them off in the night. In her teasing that he was more handsome without his wig. James had not spoken to her at all about the visits despite telling himself he would. If she had softened to him at all – perhaps they could have another child. Perhaps it would not feel like he was taking utter advantage of her.

 

* * *

 

The day the wasters arrive for the planned lessons – Weatherby was beside himself at breakfast and gazes at his parents as if the time they are taking to eat their meal was a great betrayal as it holds up the lessons he had so anticipated. “Go and wash up,” James said. “I will see you in the garden.”

Weatherby left the table at a dead run.

Elizabeth smiled fondly after him before turning to James with a hint of uncertainty. “I know you are a good teacher,” she said. “but you will be careful with him?”

“Of course,” James said. “I fully expect to be battered about with his sword until he gets the hang of it. And footwork is less dangerous of course.”

Elizabeth smiled but then bizarrely added. “Your father blackened your eye when you were learning though didn’t he?” James stares. How on earth did she know that? “Lt Groves told me,” she said clearly reading his face. “He said it happened more than once and gave him a horror of learning the sword.”

“Theo Groves has had a horror of learning any more than he has to his whole life,” James said. “And my father never blackened my eye, Elizabeth.” If James had not done well enough at any of the lessons his father had brought up in anticipation of his military service he had set James to duelling his older brother – an unfair fight where a black eye would have been the least of his troubles. But it had not actually been his father who did it so he was not lying. “I cannot say Weatherby will not earn his fair share of bruises while he is learning – but I would never deliberately harm him. I will be very careful.”

“I know,” Elizabeth and graced him with a kiss. “A mother is allowed to worry you know.”

 

Wasters were not the only thing James had ordered in anticipation of Weatherby’s lessons. He had ordered a new sword for himself. He should have thought of it years ago really. Anything could have happened to it at sea. Perhaps the new blacksmith was not as talented as Will Turner but all the more reason Weatherby should have this sword. When he was old enough.

James had thought this lesson would make him think of Will Turner even more than the sword had. He had given young Turner a couple of lessons when he was new to his apprenticeship and begging lessons of any officer he encountered, claiming it would help him make better swords.

Not many – James had been promoted not long after their arrival and had his own career to think of, but he could remember how earnest and serious the young man had been whenever he did get a lesson.

 

Weatherby was neither of those things and James spent the first part of the ‘lesson’ trying to dissuade Weatherby from handily defeating every bit of greenery in reach with his new wooden sword, hoping it would get it out of his system. When Weatherby showed no sign of tiring (and James was having trouble not picturing just how outraged Mr Jones the gardener was going to be,) he called Weatherby over and directed him to sit by him on one of the garden benches.

“Weatherby, while I appreciate your enthusiasm. This is not a toy.” He started.

“It’s made of wood!” Weatherby pointed out.  

“Yes,” James said. “But it is a tool for learning. Not destroying shrubbery.” Weatherby looked a little abashed at that. “So what we are going to do now,” James continued. “Is put the swords down and I will teach you footwork and posture.” Weatherby did not look too disheartened or protest at this so James added. “And then I will teach you how to guard with a sword.”

Adding that last was a mistake. Weatherby enquired every ten minutes when they would get to that bit. James kept him at footwork for an hour before he relented and they practice guards which to his credit Weatherby took very seriously indeed.

After the lesson, Weatherby looked up at him. “I know it is important Father. I will learn. I’m going to be as good as you are I promise.”

“I have no doubt,” James said, struck by the sudden seriousness, patting Weatherby on the back. “Let’s go and tell your mother about your lesson.” After all, Elizabeth would no doubt be reassured to hear the only damage done was to the garden.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is surprised again by his wife.

James made only a brief attempt to get sense out of Theo Groves and why when Elizabeth had been quizzing the lieutenant about his fidelity, Theo had seen fit to share tales of James’ childhood. But the lieutenant had blankly denied they had discussed any such thing until eventually he had blinked and said. “I have discussed your family with her – but not recently. Not at all recently. It must be years ago – I had mentioned your mother I think?”

Theo frowned and then suddenly snapped his fingers. “It was before Weatherby was born – just after you had announced your happy news. I said something about your mother – how thrilled she would be. How she was always writing and lecturing that you hadn’t married and had a family of your own. And Elizabeth was curious about your family. Said you hardly mention them.” That answered how Elizabeth knew to ask Theo about his family then even if James could hardly imagine what might have been said. “I did not say anything too incriminating,” Theo offered. “I barely mentioned your brothers at all. And I was quite complimentary of your sister and mother. But she was particularly interested in your father and so.” Theo trailed off and James managed to refrain from asking why Groves could not just say anything – he was hardly closely acquainted with James’ father for all he had grown up on a neighbouring estate. But then it would be a little much to expect Theo to start being circumspect now – he had never been so in his life.

Still it was not ideal and in the end, James cannot leave it be. It was a reasonable question for Elizabeth to ask perhaps in the earlier stages of their marriage. Though why she could not have asked him rather than Theo.

 

That night when he came home, Elizabeth was in the garden reading with Weatherby. A blanket was laid out on the grass and Elizabeth had Weatherby close, settled against her where she sat– a matched set of blond heads bent over the book as they took turns to read a page. James watched them for a long moment. Despite the changes that had been slowly creeping into his marriage, James felt a little like he was intruding.

“Hello darling,” Elizabeth said getting to her feet, smoothing Weatherby’s hair and coming over to kiss his cheek. It still felt odd when she did so – he was used to her miming the action and not actually making contact.  Weatherby did not so much as look up from the book he was so engrossed.  “Shall we take a turn around the garden,” Elizabeth suggested. “Let him finish that chapter.”

 James was still not used to receiving such offers from his wife. From her taking his arm when offered instead of ignoring it. But he nodded. He did want to talk to her. Today had at least made something clear to him.

 

Still, as they made their way around the garden he waited at first to see if Elizabeth had something to say to him and after she was silent, he started. “I had something made clear to me today,” he said quietly. “I did not understand when Weatherby was born why you did not wish me to act as his father. But I can imagine whatever Lt. Groves told you of the Admiral was sufficiently off putting.” He looked at her. “I can only assure you I have never looked to my father as an example. Quite the opposite.” If James was ever unsure of how to tackle a situation with Weatherby and it was not something Elizabeth had already ruled on, his first instinct was to think what Admiral Norrington might have done when James was a child and then to take the action most different from it.

“I never thought you would be a bad father,” Elizabeth said. “ _Never_.” She looked a little distraught. “I did not truly understand what you meant when you said you would accept Weatherby.” She glanced back to their son. “I thought you would give him your name. Let me keep him. Some men will turn a blind eye I know but I did not think you would care for him as you do.” Elizabeth turned to him and he was startled to see tears in her eyes. “Not even when I could see it every day did I let myself believe it.” James only found himself thinking of new concerns at this. Perhaps they were back to gratitude again.

 

“None of that now,” James said gently. “You will be accused of soppiness,” he glanced towards Weatherby who was paying them no attention at all. Her words hurt of course, but it was not new information that she had not been convinced of his paternal feelings. He offered her his handkerchief and she blinked and took it. “I suppose you must have been angry on his behalf?” he said suddenly. The notion that he was only pretending with Weatherby but planned not to provide for him. She had always been so angry at him – he had assumed she had merely resented him for not being the man she had wanted to marry.

“Yes,” she said. “Because I could be angry on his behalf. He was entirely innocent. As much as I resented you for your dislike of me I could not say that was not earnt.”

“My what?” James said blankly stopping dead to stare at her.

“I was quite convinced you despised me,” Elizabeth said frankly, twisting the handkerchief he had given her in her hands as she spoke. “Who would not? I gave myself to another man then accepted your proposal on the condition you saved him and then took advantage of the fact you were too honourable to leave me to my fate to make you raise his child. You never spend a minute with me if you can help it – even when I was with child, you were always kind – but I had to come to you and I knew I was imposing. And every time I offered you anything you were not remotely interested.” And before James could point out that it was not at all like that. That he had never wanted to impose on her, Weatherby had finally finished his book and rushed over cutting off any talk of their marriage.

 

“Father,” he said alight with hope. “Might we have a lesson before dinner? Mother can watch if she likes.” Weatherby added magnanimously, looking to Elizabeth for her approval.

Elizabeth blinked her tears away and leaned down to kiss his head. “You may practice footwork,” she said. “But nothing more – you are not to work yourself up for dinner and I doubt the shrubs need a further workout.”

Weatherby pouted – something that never had the slightest effect on Elizabeth though James had given into it numerous times but acquiesced and tugged at James’ arm to drag him onto the lawn. “Let’s see what you remember,” James said gently and Elizabeth watched as he corrected Weatherby’s stance and steps until he was sent into the house wash and change. And of course, they must return to the house and change themselves yet James cannot forget her words from before. “Elizabeth,” James said as they headed into the house. “I have never despised you. I could not. I . . .”

“Oh, I know that now,” she said. “More fool me. But you cannot blame me -until recently you would have preferred I have a lover than be close to me. What was I supposed to think!” And then she had followed Weatherby into the house leaving James standing there speechless. Surely, he had shown he cared in other ways?

 

 

Dinner might well have been an awkward affair if Weatherby was not prepared to fill any silence. “A new sword came today,” he said with such a note of hope that James had to hide a smile while Elizabeth looked perturbed.

“It is a new sword for myself,” James said. “It will take more than two lessons before you are ready for live steel young man.”

“How many?” Weatherby immediately asked and James regretted that phrasing at once. He cannot state a number – Weatherby would keep an exact count and then demand a sword at once.

“It depends on how well you learn,” Elizabeth interrupted. “So you will have to listen and practice instead of dreaming of a new sword.”

Weatherby sighed and turned his attention to his dinner poking it round the plate to show he was hard done by.

“I did not realise you needed a new sword?” Elizabeth said to him a strange note in her voice and at least here James could be reassuring.

“I thought perhaps I would not risk the one I have at sea,” James said. “It being a family heirloom, I would keep it on land so that it can be passed on.”

“Is it an ancient sword?” Weatherby asked. “Does it have magic powers?”

“No,” James said. “But your grandfather gifted it to me when I was promoted to Commodore. And it’s very fine. It will be yours one day. When you are ready.”

Elizabeth ate not another bite and drank nearly a whole bottle of wine over the remainder of the meal. Weatherby thankfully occupied the whole meal with questions of how soon he could be ready to have his own sword.

 

After Weatherby had been firmly refused a set number of lessons or skill requirement or age that would bequeath him the sword he went to bed in rather a huff. Elizabeth watched him sulk his way up the stairs and then looked at James. “Thank you,” she said. And he knew what he was being thanked for once.

“I thought he should have it,” James said honestly. “One day anyway. I will have it locked up – I think in his mind it’s already his.”

“It always struck me as unfair,” Elizabeth said suddenly. “Everyone knew Will made those swords. No-one would acknowledge it.”

“Not everyone,” James said feeling foolish – it had been unfair but. “And those who did - Mr Brown – he was a skilled man once, a good teacher and he was good to Mr Turner. He only turned to drink after he lost his wife and child to yellow fever.”

“I didn’t know that,” Elizabeth said, she was unsteady, James realised and perhaps a little drunk.

“Grief is difficult,” James said though it seemed an unnecessary thing to say.  “Not everyone knew –those who did and said nothing were only giving Mr Brown his pride, not snubbing Mr Turner.” Everyone had assumed he would get credit for his work when he was older.

Elizabeth nodded and her eyes are glimmering with tears again. James’ heart aches for her. To be so affected after all this time. Perhaps she did not hate him but that was not the same as feeling as he did for her. But he thinks of what she said this afternoon. How she had to come to him every time and when he went to her and took her in his arms, she trembled a moment then clung to him and he thought perhaps he had finally done the right thing.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth and James clear the air. Sort of.

James had reassured Elizabeth as best he could when he was utterly lost for words himself. She had kissed his cheek and retreated up the stairs without a goodnight herself when she had calmed and James went to his study. Had he been a poor husband? Had he given some sort of indication that he hated Elizabeth? He did not think he had – he could not imagine doing so. He had enquired over her health regularly in their early marriage, she had seemed to hate that but he had been concerned over her health. She had after all been in a delicate state and so easily upset. Had she assumed his enquiries – which she had never really answered except to say that everything was as expected – were taunts? And he had offered comfort! If he saw her cry, he had never dared intrude when she wandered the house looking a little lost or spent the day abed.

Clearly, James had been wrong to assume Elizabeth had wanted nothing more from him. That because she did not want him she did not want his support.  He had tried so desperately not to intrude on her grief that Elizabeth had ended up thinking he had no regard for her at all. No wonder she had been constantly on the defensive. James had done his best not to respond when she needled him – he had not wanted to quarrel. That must have driven her half mad.

 

Though he had made some overtures. It had been easier to write to her when he was at sea. He had known she would want to hear about naval exploits. And he still had her single response to that. He pulled it out of the drawer it was no more than a worn slip of paper now. James had kept it to remind him not to get his hopes up. Perhaps if he had not thought things so hopeless he might have tried earlier. But he cannot imagine any situation where he would have approached her. He would have been too hesitant she might end up being dutiful towards him.

 

He was startled out of his thoughts by the creak of the door. Elizabeth did not knock. “Aren’t you coming to bed?” Elizabeth said coming to his side

Too late James shoved the note back into the drawer and too long. “I will not be long,” he said standing.

“Are you avoiding me?” she said. “I know I have been so awful.” She glanced at the drawer and James knew she had seen the note. He should never have kept it. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Tomorrow then,” James said. “You have had a difficult day.” He was trying to be diplomatic and Elizabeth suddenly drew herself up to her full height.

“I am not drunk,” she said. James did not think their fledgeling peace would survive an accusation so he said nothing and she amended. “Not very drunk. I have to tell you something.” James can hardly deny her that and he guides her to the seat by the fire.

“Alright,” he said.

“I have to tell you,” Elizabeth said. “What happened between Will and I.”

“You do not have to,” James said. He had never wanted to pry and it could only be awkward. He was beyond glad she did not hate him. She did not have to justify a lack of feeling for him.

“I think there have been enough misunderstandings between us,” Elizabeth said. “I know it does not make much difference given the outcome. But I did not plan – I did not intend to deceive you.”

“Elizabeth,” James said. “If I was deceived it was because I wanted to be. Even when we discussed conditions – I would have listened to anything you said. Because I wanted to marry you. But I never wanted to force you into marriage. I would have given you your freedom if it had been possible. If Mr Turner had survived I would have wished the both of you happy. I would not have insisted you honour our engagement.”

 

“That is not what I meant,” Elizabeth said a flush coming to her cheeks. “I meant – what happened with Will. When we.” She suddenly looked so young and unsure that James could forget she was a woman of twenty-seven now, his wife of nine years and a mother for near as long.

“You do not have to tell me of this,” James said gently, daring to take one of her hands. “It is private and yours. Elizabeth, I would never expect this of you.”

“Shush,” she said, squeezing his hand in return. “This is hard enough as it is. When I was taken by the pirates – I said my name was Elizabeth Turner. I thought they might try to ransom me if they knew I was the Governor’s daughter. I thought they would only want the necklace if I was nobody important. That they would take the Aztec coin and go. I did not know about the curse. About the blood.” She turned her hand in his and he can see the scar she was left with from her misadventure. “They tried with me first but it did not work and they were so angry they struck me and paid me no attention. That was when Will saved me.”

James can only listen to this vaguely uncomfortable. They have never discussed the curse. Never discussed that she had not told him of it before he got to the Isla de Muerta – that he had never held against her. She might have withheld it so he would rescue Turner but if she had brought up undead pirates he would have dismissed it as nonsense until he had seen it with his own eyes. He would only have called for the surgeon and assumed she had sunstroke or had breathed in too much smoke from her signal fire.

 

“But the Pirates followed us,” she said. “It was the best part of a day and some of the night and we could not lose them. No matter how fast the Interceptor went they were always catching us. Flying their flag upside down. And they had made comments. The first time I was held by them – Captain Barbossa sent me a dress and said if I did not wear it I would be sent naked to the crew, and when they cut my hand they said they only needed a little blood. So I was not to be wasted.” James’ heart was in his throat now. Elizabeth had never spoken of the time she had been held by the pirates. She had seemed so fierce when she had been retrieved and her father had assured she hadn’t been hurt – James had never considered that she might have been subject to such threats.

Elizabeth was staring fixedly at the fire now. “I have always read pirate tales,” she said. “I knew what was likely to happen when we were caught. And so when the wind was against us. When we knew they would be on us in an hour or so. I took Will below decks and told him what I wanted. I did not plan to be a loose woman or to give myself to him because of how I felt even though I could never marry him. But if I was going to be taken by pirates – I did not want that to be my first experience.” James squeezed her hand and she clung a little to him.

 

“I am sorry you had to make the decision,” James said though of course, the words are barely adequate. “I am sorry you were threatened so.”

“Will spared me that as my first and then spared me it altogether. When they did catch us, he told them he had the blood they needed and held a gun to his own throat until they promised no harm would come to me and I would be released. That’s why they marooned me with Jack. That’s why I was so wild to save him – he would never have gone after pirates if not for me. He would not have had to tell them it was his blood if he had not been trying to save me.”

And unspoken underneath it all was the fact that if not for her Will Turner would not have died. “Did you know when you were taken Mr Turner came to see me,” James said quietly. “He demanded we question Jack Sparrow. That he would lead us to you. I know how much he cared for you, Elizabeth. He knew what he was risking when he went to save you.” James knew with certainty that Will Turner would have given his life to save Elizabeth because he would have done the same.

“He said so,” Elizabeth said. “Before he was half mad with fever. He said he would do it again to spare me that.”

“Of course he would have,” James said. Elizabeth burst into tears and he drew her into his arms to let her cry only to be surprised by further words – as much as he could make out through her sniffles.

 

“He said you cared for me too,” Elizabeth said. “That he was glad I would be married to you and safe. I thought I had undone all that – that everything was a duty. That I had your protection for honour and duty and for –“ she cuts off the last bit but James knew what she was going to say.

“You thought it was all for appearance’s sake,” James said quietly. The note – it made that much more sense if she thought it was all he was offering.

“I was so wrong,” Elizabeth said. “But I did not know I was carrying Weatherby when I accepted. It looked so awful after.  I thought how could you do anything but despise me. No matter what you had thought.”

“I never could,” James said. And though she did not return his feelings he could not help but offer her honesty. “I love you. Elizabeth. I could not hate you. Not even when I was quite sure you loathed me.”

Elizabeth looked stunned by that. James supposed it must be a shock to go from one extreme to another. “I do not ask that you return my feelings,” he added quickly. “I am glad you do not hate me. And if you want we can have another child.”

Elizabeth was still crying when he persuaded her to bed but it seemed cathartic. James thought. Or hoped. It had been a lot to hold in for so long and when she finally succumbed to sleep, she seemed easy enough – he had taken her to her own bed and thought he had meant to leave when she was settled he drifted off beside her watching her slumber.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously the Black Pearl catches the Interceptor a bit quicker in canon. But Elizabeth and Will don't get their opportune moment either so *handwaves*


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth gives James some answers - in her own way.

James was startled to find when he awoke the next morning to find he was not in his own bed and that Elizabeth was already awake. She was sat up beside him in her threadbare shift and watching him. He sat up and felt abashed. He had never come to her before and he had no idea how welcome he was despite the change in their relationship. He meant to let her have full control of any changes in closeness. “I did not mean to wake you,” he said.

“You did not,” Elizabeth said. “I was glad you stayed.” She kissed his cheek. “Besides when I said goodnight to Weatherby last night he told me he thinks the time before breakfast when only you and he are up is ideal to fit in extra lessons so no doubt we will have company soon.”

James grinned at the thought of Weatherby’s determination - such dedication was only admirable. “It’s not entirely a terrible idea. And his tutor might have an easier time of it if he works through some of his energy before his lessons.” Weatherby was a good student – for the most part, if his attention could be captured. Which tended to be the trickier part.

 

“Alright,” Elizabeth said. She got out of bed and James tried not to stare at her – in the morning light, in her darned nightgown with her hair loose and rumpled she was still beautiful. Perhaps more so because he had never expected to see her like this so unguarded and intimate. “I hope my invite to watch is still in place,” she said, looking a little awkward. “As I am up anyway?”

“Always,” James said. “I will let you dress.”  He glanced at the window. “If would not set such a bad precedent I’d say we could invade the nursery and wake him for once.”

Elizabeth laughed. “He will be awake already,” she said certainly. “He is always up at sunrise. He always has been – even as a baby. I have told him he must read a chapter of his Latin every day before he is allowed to wake anyone. He lies in bed and huffs his way through it.”

 

James paused, suddenly feeling foolish for not knowing that. But he had always let Elizabeth manage the household including the nursery without any interference from him. Then he pushed the feeling aside. He was an involved father. No-one could deny that. “I always thought he was a good sleeper,” James said hesitantly. “But I missed so much of him as a baby.” Elizabeth looked stricken. “I meant at sea,” he added rapidly. He had not meant to scold. Her possessiveness made sense now. “I was away most of his first year when I left he was so small and when I came back he was toddling about the place and talking.”  

“He did everything early,” Elizabeth said seeming to take his words at face value to his relief. “He could drag himself along the furniture at ten months and he was walking before his birthday. And his first word was ‘No!’ Probably because he heard it so often once he could walk – he was always trying to climb something or reach for something breakable.” James cannot help but be pleased to even have an anecdote. And feeling daring he reached for Elizabeth’s hand and pressed a kiss to it in thanks. It even earned him a smile.

“Indeed,” James said. “I see he started as he meant to go on.” And then he did leave so she could dress.

 

Of course, having seen Elizabeth’s room in the morning light, he had more questions. Her bed had no hangings, he had seen no cosmetics – not that she needed them. He had not seen any of the jewellery she never wore and he knew there had been a mirror in there at one point. No books, no paintings, no trappings at all. He still cannot think of a way to bring up what she did with her money but he could offer to refurbish her room. If it was not to her liking then he should pay for it – like any other household cost. He had offered he was sure when they were first wed that she could change anything she liked but she had been so morose then he cannot imagine she took it in.

 

So, after breakfast – which was late once Weatherby had been persuaded indoors and in the end, James had promised him another lesson before dinner – he meant to say this to her. But he was interrupted before he could. “You spoil him,” she said once Weatherby had been sent off to the school room after confirming just one more time there would be another lesson later.

James did not know if this was a scold or not. He knew he was indulgent to Weatherby. “I would never deliberately do so,” he said. “But I find I don’t have it in me to refuse him lessons or attention.”

“I don’t mind it,” Elizabeth assured. “Though it does make me feel a little stupid I did not see things clearly earlier.” James wanted to reassure her at once but she shushed him before he could. “I have something for you.” This startled him – Elizabeth had never once given him anything – and yet worried him. If she was so short of money for reasons he could not work out then why would she spend any of what she had on him.

But what she handed him was a small bundle of papers. “I always used to start a reply,” she said. “I used to think maybe I could convince you in writing that I had not meant to be deceptive. And I liked to write about Weatherby. But I always got myself too worked up before I sent them. I was so sure you were only asking because it was expected. Writing to me out of duty. Some of them I burnt in a temper – but I kept most of them. And they are mostly about Weatherby. I thought you might like to have them, however late they are.”

James took the bundle eagerly. “Yes,” he said. “I would.” He looked at them – it was a solid bundle and he could see many of the letters comprise several sheets. It was all he could do to pay attention to Elizabeth and not start reading them then and there.

 

His fascination made her smile a little then. A wistful smile before she touched his cheek. “You must excuse any temper in them,” Elizabeth instructed firmly. “There is a reason they weren’t sent. But I hope there is some comfort in them. Especially for the things you missed with Weatherby. It will prepare you for the next time.”  Then Elizabeth kissed his cheek and was off out apparently to return a social call. James had not managed to talk to her at all. And her reminder there about next time had made it clear it was not only the room and the money that they needed to discuss.

James had told her when she had been so upset they could have another child if she wanted. Truth be told he was becoming fond of the idea himself. If – _when_ Elizabeth was with child again. He would know he was allowed to fuss over her during this pregnancy. Be allowed to feel the child kick even if she wasn’t upset. Allowed to hold the baby and fuss and perhaps if his duty allowed be there for some of the firsts he had missed with Weatherby. – No James thought all of that sounded wonderful. Conceiving a child with Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed like it could only be bittersweet. She did not hate him. She did not mind being close to him. It would not be what he dreaded – her loathing every moment of intimacy with him. But as much as he wanted her – had always wanted her. The idea of bedding her now – instead of sleeping beside her felt like a step too far for their fledgeling understanding. As if they were rushing into it if such a thing was possible after nine years of marriage. But he could not imagine that refusing her would help – he had as much as given her his word.  

 

James took the letters with him to Fort Charles yet for most of the morning he could not bring himself to look at them. Of course, he had work to do that took precedence but it would be cowardly to pretend that was the reason. Once he would have given much for a single letter from Elizabeth. Until he had received one and that had ended that desire. But these were not like that. For all her warnings about her temper, they were real letters. He decided to read one after completing a report and after that, the afternoon was lost as he made his way through the pile.

Elizabeth’s letters were as direct as she was. The first few are little more tentative – perhaps because she had considered sending those. They are much the same. They start with thanks for his letter with occasional queries about his mission or the sailing conditions, then she would write a little about the baby, advise him she was as well as could be expected given motherhood – occasionally she had added a rather reluctant sounding sentence about her willingness to take part in the process again. Back when she must have assumed he would want that eventually. It was a few letters in when she must have decided she would not send them and they become more telling and yet harder to read.

Some are tirades against his pretence with Weatherby. It was not fair, she had written again and again. To make her son love him when he would never be his father truly. There was one particularly scathing one that he managed to work out would have been written shortly after he turned down her offer to do her duty in which despite the tone there were several indications she might not find it as much a duty as he had thought. He was firmly told off for wandering around in his shirt sleeves chasing Weatherby and pretending he did not mind the informality. Another letter scolded him for his attention in public. For pretending he wanted anything to do with her for appearance's sake only. For leading her on by staring at her across ball rooms as if he still cared for her. There was one particularly heart breaking one where she asked if she was so ruined in his eyes. Could he never want her? There are smudges on it that make him wonder. Then by the end, she clearly had lost her temper and declares him a hypocrite. He was not coming virgin to their marriage now was he. James coloured a little when Elizabeth made it quite clear his last encounter with the widowed Mrs Willis – which had ended before he started courting Elizabeth - was not as discreet as he had believed. He probably had the garrulous Lt Groves to thank for sharing that bit of information.

 

It was the last letter that gave him, at last, a hint at why Elizabeth managed to appear such a spend thrift yet have nothing to show for it. It must have been written after one of the occasions he had increased her allowance because she was very pleased with herself and informed him scathingly he would provide for her son whether he liked it or not because she did not spend any of it and would save all of it for Weatherby even if she could not bank it without him finding out. James found himself hurt even though her opinion he would not provide for Weatherby was not new and yet _relieved_. He had wondered if Elizabeth’s unhappiness had led to some other kind of vice. James thought she had too much sense to take part in the abuse of laudanum or other remedies and while she would not be the first woman with gambling debts James had been unable to picture that at all. Elizabeth seldom lost at anything. That she was saving the money for their son believing it would be the only inheritance he would receive made sense though he could only feel terrible she had gone without anything for herself for so long. He should have noticed. He should have realised she had nothing for herself and perhaps a discussion might have engendered this understanding earlier. But there was nothing to be done about the past and James headed home to assure Elizabeth that money was for her. Despite having shown her his will, he had still seen no sign of her spending or acquiring anything for herself.

But arriving home and acquiring a moment alone with Elizabeth are two very different things. He had barely stepped in the door when he was pounced on by Weatherby eagerly awaiting the second lesson of the day. Elizabeth laughed at them both and kissed Weatherby’s hair before she came out to watch them.

 

James put aside what he meant to say to her. He had moved on to showing Weatherby offensive moves now and once they had done the footwork he put himself on the defensive, fending off and parrying Weatherby’s wild swings. He did not return the attacks and would not – not until Weatherby was more experienced but when an opening was left as it often was by Weatherby’s enthusiastic attempts, he did tap him with the sword to show how he was leaving himself vulnerable. Weatherby was more likely to smack James in the leg with his sword than actually land a proper blow but he was determined to try. James thought in a year or two he could take him to sword drills at the Fort to practice with the young gentlemen. It would likely not help to dispel his navy ambitions but it would do him good to fight opponents he had a chance against. He tapped Weatherby on the chest after another swing went wild and Elizabeth cheered. She had mostly cheered Weatherby on as he scattered bruises along James calf’s but occasionally clapped for James. Weatherby looked at her betrayed. “Mother!” he scolded.

Elizabeth looked innocent. “I am allowed to cheer for both my boys am I not?”

James tapped Weatherby on the behind with the sword. “Pay attention,” he said. “You should be watching me not your mother.”

Weatherby took that to heart and tried much harder for the next bout ending it by when he flung himself down to whack James hard on the ankle. James tried not to let himself by distracted by Elizabeth’s laughter. “I think that is enough for today,” he said helping Weatherby up and taking the wooden sword away. “I think we will have to work on your technique. You cannot cut all your opponent’s feet off.”

“I do not see why not,” Weatherby said. “At least until I grow taller. There are two arteries in the feet and if I got the Achilles tendon they would be unable to stand and then I could stab them anywhere I like.”

James bit back a smile at this defence. He could see Elizabeth desperately trying not to laugh. “Anatomy this week is it?” he said.  It was the sort of lesson that Weatherby would like.

“Mr O’Brien says if you cut an artery a body can empty of blood in minutes,” Weatherby affirmed eagerly. “Cutting someone’s foot off would work.”

“Perhaps,” James said. “But tomorrow I think you should speak to Mr O’Brien about the difficulty of doing so. Surgeons use bone saws not swords to remove limbs.” Weatherby’s eyes widened – he was not at all put off by such talk.

“Could I see a bone saw?” Weatherby asked eagerly. “Next time I come to the fort?”

“I am sure the surgeons have enough to keep them busy without entertaining you,” Elizabeth said smoothly interrupting. “Go on in and wash up.” Weatherby did as he was told for once – he often would appeal to James for more time for all that James never would contradict Elizabeth.

 

James knew she would expect them to follow suit but he could not help but want to offer some reassurance after the letters. “Thank you for the letters,” he said. “I am sorry. About the misunderstanding. That you have been without resource because you were saving for our son.”

“Oh do not apologise,” Elizabeth said. “I have been the biggest fool. If I had sent just one of those letters how much sooner would we have known we were both wrong?” James wonders – some of the letters would have made him talk to her. Some of them would have had him quite convinced she hated him. “And at least now I can admire you in shirt sleeves without feeling like I should be ashamed,” she added cheekily and James found his cheeks colouring.

“And perhaps I might dare admire you somewhere other than a ballroom,” he ventured only for Elizabeth to surprise him with her own blush.

“I would like that,” she admitted and James took a chance and drew her into his arms to kiss her. Properly. Not the briefly like the kisses she had offered him however welcome they had been. He captured her mouth and held tightly to her as he relished the taste of her and the feel of her melting into his arms. He nipped at her lower lip and she gasped into his mouth before reacting by darting her tongue out to battle with his and she felt like his entire world for that moment until she pulled away and smiled at him. “If our son tries to wrangle an after dinner lesson from you, you must say no,” she instructed. “I have my own plans for you this evening.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth makes good on her plans for James.

After Elizabeth’s words James was not surprised when she came through to his room that night. After reading her letters he no longer feared that she might do so out of duty or expectation. He had not prepared for bed but he had removed his jacket and waistcoat which made her smile at least. She came straight into his arms and kissed him sweetly. James tangled one hand in her hair and she sighed into his mouth holding tightly to him.

“I am sorry,” James said. Unable to help himself now they were alone.

“You said so already,” Elizabeth said. “I hardly suffered James. I have bought dozens of inappropriate books for the library and billed you for them. And most of my clothing. You never ever queried a bill.”

 

James hadn’t. Of course, he hadn’t. That would have involved talking to his wife. But he hadn’t meant that though her words hardly made it acceptable. “I did not mean that,” he said quietly. “Though I do regret it. I meant. I never meant for you to feel rejected. That I was judging you for your choices. If I was going to do that it would have been unfair for me to wed you. You had been entirely honest with me and I accepted that – I wish I had made it clearer.”

“Ha,” Elizabeth said. “I would likely not have noticed. I do not think I have been more relieved in my life than when you said you would take me still. My father is indulgent but there are limits and I hadn’t told him I’d gone to give you free. He might have locked me in my room until we were wed.” She looked a little guilty at that. “He did not like the idea of deceiving you but it appealed more than the alternative.”

“Of course, he put you first,” James said. He had never given it a moment’s thought to blaming Weatherby Swann for anything. James had always felt slightly guilty for how grateful his father in law had been to him considering how unhappy James had thought Elizabeth was. And she had been unhappy albeit in a completely different way than he had thought. He held her a little closer instinctively and suddenly noticed something else about her attire.

 

The shift she was wearing was silk and lace and ribbon and without wear. “You got something new?” James said almost without thinking. He did not know if he should encourage the idea of her buying nightwear that – well it had been designed to be appealing but in the circumstance, he could hardly say so.

“No,” Elizabeth said looking down at herself. “This is rather old actually. I’ve had it nine years though only worn it once.”

James blinked then taking in the sheerness of the silk, took her meaning. The lace concoction was rather overdone and he realised the occasion it must have been provided for. James had not approached Elizabeth at all on their wedding night. He had wondered. If he should go to her – reassure her of his lack of expectations. But she had cried the entire way to his home in the carriage and had seemed panicked when he had helped her over the threshold and he had not been able to stomach the idea of approaching her when she was sure to assume his reason and be horrified by the notion. He had let his absence speak for itself – no wonder she had come to her own conclusions. And if he had gone and assured her she had no obligations in that regard, how much sooner might they have talked.

“Even if I thought I would be welcome that night,” he said quietly. “You were with child – we could not have – it would not have been proper.”

“Nonsense,” Elizabeth said. “That’s just an old wives’ tale.”

“Ah,” James said. That did not seem quite right to him but he did not think it his place to argue. She would know better than him surely.

 

“Why did you never want me?” Elizabeth asked suddenly. “I did offer. In poor fashion, I know. But still.”

“For the reasons, I told you at the time,” James said – he thought he had been perfectly plain but clearly that was a notion he had thought far too many times incorrectly. “You were not willing.”

“Not willing!” Elizabeth said “I offered! What is that if not willing?”

“You offered to do your duty,” James said quietly. “And referred to – I believe your phrase was – getting it over with.” To his surprise rather than arguing Elizabeth blushed, sat on the bed and looked upset.

“Well what was I was supposed to say?” she said a little wetly. “I was already a proven wanton. I could hardly tell you I wanted to be bedded. And you made it so much worse. Always staring at me when we went out so I thought you might want me – at least a little. I certainly wanted you. I mean you were chasing Weatherby about in your shirt sleeves. Half the maids were admiring how tight your breeches were. It was ridiculous to think I didn’t dare do the same.”

 

James found himself stricken with horror. That Elizabeth had felt so judged. And her words about the maids do not bear thinking on at all. “You did not seem wanton,” he said. She had certainly not seemed to admire him in any way. She had seemed scared but he knew if he said that she would be offended. “You seemed rather nervous,” he said in the end.

“I was,” she said confusing him further. But Elizabeth was not done. She managed a deep breath. “I had some hope,” she said quietly. “If we were close in that way. Perhaps we might become closer in other ways. Perhaps I might please you. I think I thought it was my last hope of salvaging anything. And I was nervous that if you despised me as much as I thought it wouldn’t work. And when you turned me away that’s what I assumed it was.”

James could not bear this notion and he went to her and held her close. “Never,” he said. Though he had said it before – no doubt he would say it again. “I took you at your word,” he said. “That it was duty – that you were there to be a good wife. That it would be something you did not truly want. I wanted to make you feel safer to know I would never expect. I would never force something like that. I wanted no part of duty and obligation.”

 

Elizabeth curled in his arms and was quiet for a moment. “I would have accepted duty,” she said. “I would have accepted anything. I nearly said that to you when you told me to take a lover.” She tilted her head up at that staring at him and looking rather resolute. “I was going to tell you it was your duty to give me children. Whether you wanted to or not.”

James could not even think how he might have responded to such an ultimatum. It would have taken him aback for certain. “I think it is different when a woman makes such a demand,” he said after a long moment. “But I am sorry to have been such a poor husband and to neglect such an important duty, Elizabeth. I hope you will allow me to make it up to you.” This at least won him a smile and he wiped a tear from her soft cheek. It was still a novelty to be allowed to touch her that much, let alone anything more.

“I don’t think I could settle for just dutiful now,” Elizabeth told him loftily. “I think you may have to be quite attentive to make up for your previous neglect.”

“I see,” James said. “Well, I think I might be up to the task.” He captured her mouth with his and kissed her while settling back on the bed. Attentive. He was not entirely sure what she had meant by that but he thought it was a good reason to focus on her first. Which was not exactly contrary to his desires. Being able to touch Elizabeth – the idea of pleasing her was a dream he had discarded as implausible a long time ago.

 

James spent an age letting himself explore Elizabeth with his hands and mouth. Running her hands over the sheer silk that disguised none of her body heat nor prevented him discovering where she was most sensitive. There was a spot just above her collarbone that made her quiver in his arms when he kissed there. Elizabeth made the most maddening sounds as he let his mouth drift to her breasts – the silk and lace nightgown unfastened nearly _all_ the way down. James had meant to ask her – to tell her he would stop if anything was too much for her. If he was going too fast. He had one hand resting on her thigh – he still marvelled at how soft her skin felt and while it had been some years since James had done physical labour he still felt his hands were too rough for her. He was aware of every callous that sword work had left on his skin. But then when he inched his touch up her thigh and she arched under him and murmured a single word – “ _Please._ ”

James could not help himself then and he pressed his touch higher until his touch was where she needed it. Elizabeth’s breath quickened and she shook beneath him and clung. She had closed her eyes tightly and James watched the pleasure play across her face rather greedily as if it was a sight he could memorise. “Oh,” Elizabeth said as if startled. “I did not know.” Her voice was a little shaky and James could not help but feel pleased. “That was not what I meant,” she said suddenly shy.

“No?” James said suddenly cautious - she had seemed pleased but he did not want to do anything wrong.

“I meant I wanted you,” Elizabeth said, her cheeks pink. “I did not know. That it could feel that good just from touching.” She looked a little awkward suddenly. “I know I should not know anything, but I did not know that.”

James could not help but wonder – Mr Turner had been moony-eyed over the Governor’s daughter for so long he might not have been any more experienced than Elizabeth. But he had clearly given her some pleasure along with Weatherby who was a gift to them both. “I do not expect you to pretend ignorance,” he said nuzzling her neck. “You do not have to pretend to know nothing. If you have preferences Elizabeth I would like to know. Part of being an attentive husband, I should think.”

“So you still want me?” she asked suddenly shy.

“More than ever,” James assured unable to help himself. She sounded so worried and so it did not seem unseemly to admit it. He could at least refrain from saying he could not imagine wanting anything more – with her pressed against him and her nightgown rucked around her waist and his hand resting where she was slick with want and the memory of her breathy cries and the sight of her wide-eyed and needy and watching him. “As long as you still want that,” he added to check.

“More than anything,” Elizabeth said and her hands were at the fastenings of his breaches and James had to grab her hands. He was sure if she touched him he would spill instantly like a green boy. He pressed Elizabeth down to the pillows and kissed her again and again until she nipped at his lip.

“You may think you ae being attentive right now,” Elizabeth said. “But I can assure you that you aren’t James. I want more.” James smiled against her skin. “I want you.” She said and James dealt with his breaches himself before he slid him himself inside her with a sigh. He had gone as slowly and carefully as he could and he felt Elizabeth’s arms come around him as if to hold him even closer.

James could not believe the feel of her and it took all his self-control to wait and not move at once. He was sure if he did he would disgrace himself when he was already clinging to every bit of resolve he’d ever had to not ruin this for her. He pressed a kiss to her lips briefly. “Is this alright?” he asked carefully.

Elizabeth arched under him. “No,” she said but she had hold of him so he could not immediately pull away. “It is much much better than alright.” She leant up to kiss him as relief washed over him. “And it will be even more so if you move. God, I want you to move.” Elizabeth said her voice shaky and James bent to kiss her and as he rocked against her as she clung and gasped and he lasted until her own pleasure had her clench around him and he was lost to the feel of her, the sound she was making, the fact it was Elizabeth in his arms, that he was _in_ her. It was the most perfect moment and when he rolled off her conscious of his weight on her he tugged her close with a sigh to press her kiss to her hair, thinking nothing had ever been more perfect.

Only to be startled by Elizabeth’s words.

“I will get better,” she said, “I am still very new at it.” James started. What did she mean? And then he realised he had not shown her how overwhelmed he _was_.

“I hope not,” he said sincerely. “You are already perfect – if you got any better. I might never recover.” Elizabeth flushed and then cuddled into his arms where she promptly went to sleep leaving James free to watch her in the moonlight wondering and hoping after that this next step that she would not regret her decision. If she thought she could please him into a better relationship could he do the same? He certainly meant to try.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Elizabeth settle into a happier version of marriage.

It had been a week now since they had consummated their marriage. James had had Elizabeth in his arms every night since doing his best to answer her demand that he be _attentive_. And he had her constant fond attention when he was in the house and one day she and Weatherby even called on him at the fort. James still felt a little startled by every brief touch on his arm or kiss on his cheek.  

Of course, they both now received daily complaints from Weatherby about the amount of parental soppiness he was now expected to endure. And then he complained it was worse that his complaints were falling on deaf ears as Elizabeth teased him he would understand when he was older. James could not remember ever being so happy and to his relief, Elizabeth certainly seemed if not as elated as him certainly properly content for perhaps the first time in their marriage. James still if he thought on it felt a little ashamed of how neglectful he had been by assuming her feelings and he meant to make it up to her now.

 

One side effect of wandering around so utterly content was that it took him several days to realise that Elizabeth’s room was still bare and her wardrobe unaltered. He could admit he had not left her much time for shopping but surely, she had had some time to herself.

“Please buy something for yourself,” he said one night. They were sitting in the parlour after dinner after Weatherby had been sent up to bed. They had fallen into the habit of sitting there each night Elizabeth still fancily dressed from dinner and James much more informal with his coat and wig abandoned as Elizabeth seemed to prefer him. While it was lovely to have a moment to themselves sometimes it seemed that they were both only waiting for it to be a respectable hour for retiring. James would have to suggest it. For all the offers she had made before they had shared intimacy, Elizabeth was shy in bed. James did not want to expect too much of her – though he fretted she was still worried about appearing wanton. It would have given him pause about proceeding at all, if not for the pleasure and relief she showed the instant he drew her near when they were in bed.

 

“I am going to,” Elizabeth said not seeming at all bothered by the lack. Though she had had nine years to get used to it he reminded himself a little morosely. “Once I have my allowance I promise I will spend it all on myself. A dozen pirate books and French nightgowns to scandalise you.

James was dismayed to realise she _still_ had no funds of her own. “I thought you had your savings,” he said quietly. He would not have waited until the usual date if he thought she still had nothing. Elizabeth only laughed at him.

“Honestly James. I know we ignored each other but I would think even you might have noticed if I had eight years allowance lying about the place. I have it secure but it is not exactly accessible.”

 

“Indeed,” James said. “Have you buried it like a pirate?” He meant it as a jest really, he assumed she had left it with her father – or at least at the King’s house because her father would never have stood for her having nothing. She had been at her old home quite often in the early days of their marriage and when Weatherby was younger and he had been at sea she had quite often stayed there. But to his astonishment, Elizabeth immediately looked shifty. “Elizabeth?” he said. Surely not.

“Most of it,” Elizabeth admitted. “Weatherby used to love playing pirate – we buried treasure regularly. It is the whole reason I have any interest in the garden.” James stared. Elizabeth had her own small flower garden that she did spent quite a bit of time in and forbid the gardeners from interfering with. It did at least explain why her efforts produced very few flowers. “But not all of it,” she added. “Weatherby never wants to play pirates anymore – apart from one game where I am the pirate and he arrests me.” James was nudged at the ribs at that. “So, I have been putting it in the willow vase in the hall. It’s too heavy for me to lift to get anything out.”

“What were you going to do when it was full,” James said baffled.

“I was going to smash it,” Elizabeth admitted without a hint of shame. “Once I had thought of a new hiding place for the money. Then I would buy another one and have you sent the bill.”

 

“I will get you funds tomorrow,” James said because he did not have such in the house. “And your own bank account. At least you can earn interest on your bounty from now on.”

“You can have it back if you like,” Elizabeth said. “After all you might have two children to provide for soon. It would be a more than respectable dowry.”

“I am capable of providing for another child,” James said. “Several if you like. That money is yours.”

“Oh hush,” Elizabeth said. “As if you would deny me anything.” She looked extremely pleased with the notion and he could not say it was untrue and it pleased him that she knew it however belated the information was.

“I do not want you to go without,” James told her sincerely only for her to laugh which baffled him and then she tugged him close and kissed him.

“I am not going without anything I care for,” Elizabeth said simply, then said a little shyly. “As if knowing you love me after all this time I am worrying about possessions and money!”

 

James should feel worse that she had gone so long without knowing it but he could only be touched that it meant so much to her. That she wanted his love and he kissed her firmly relishing the way she melted against him and clung tightly to him.

“Did you mean that?” she asked suddenly. “Several children?”

“Of course,” James said. “It was never the idea of children I objected to Elizabeth.” Thought perhaps that sounded worse – as if he had objected to her. Which was not at all the case and he tried to soften it with a jest. “And I believe I have been told it is my duty to give you as many children as you want.” He nuzzled at her neck and she made a soft noise of want that had him doubting his self-control. He would not bed his wife in the parlour though his resolve was shaken a little when Elizabeth surprised him by reaching down to stroke at him intimately – it was a hesitant touch but still incredibly arousing.  Not least because it was the first such approach she had made.

“Ready for duty I see,” Elizabeth said and while the words were teasing, her tone was still a little unsure. “Take me to bed?”

James kissed her softly intending to be reassuring and stood while scooping her into his arms. “At once, my lady,” he said.

 

Elizabeth did not ring for a maid when he set her on her feet instead putting him to work unlacing the layers of her gown, her stomacher, her corset and petticoats. James hesitated after each layer wanting to see she was still comfortable until he was imperiously directed to carry on. When she had nothing left but her chemise -patched he noticed - and her stockings she was still watching him mischief and desire seeming to glimmer in her dark eyes and James found himself even more impossibly aroused – a thing he would not have previously said was possible. He encouraged her to sit on the edge of the bed, then knelt before her and pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her thigh. “Do you have further orders?” he asked one hand resting on her knee. James wanted very much to carry on kissing up her thigh and direct his kisses in a way he was sure she would approve of. But at the same time, he did not want to direct matters when Elizabeth finally seemed convinced to initiate matters. He wanted to let _her_ continue.

Elizabeth blinked and seemed to give the matter some serious consideration and bit her lip – which he knew meant she did and was working up to giving him further instruction.

“I am at your command,” James told her sincerely making his best effort to be encouraging.

“Well then,” Elizabeth said carefully. “I think you are overdressed for what I have in mind.”

 

James flushed a little himself and stood to undress while Elizabeth watched and when he was down to his shirt the tails dangling she raised a single eyebrow at him and James took her meaning and discarded that as well baring himself entirely for her appreciation. He let her look for a long moment then came back to the bed to steal a kiss from her only for her to pull him down on the bed beside her then roll to lie atop him, pressing kisses on him which he accepted happily.

“I want,” Elizabeth said in a small voice against his mouth. “That first night – when you touched me everywhere – I want to do that to you.” The very idea made him hesitate - he was sure he would disgrace himself utterly the instant she laid hands on him but he could not deny her.

“You do not have to,” he said instead.

“I know that,” she said dismissively. “You have been perfectly clear. I _want_ to. And I want you to tell me what to do.” James set his jaw at that – he was not going to demand anything of her and Elizabeth sighed at the sight of him being stubborn.

“What you like then?” she said nipping at his lip. It seemed she would not be deterred. “Please. It is most unfair James. You drive me quite mad you know. I did not know I could feel like that again and again. And I want to do that to you.”

“You already drive me mad,” James said. “You do not need to do anything else.”

 

“I want to,” Elizabeth said pouting at him. “And If you do not tell me how to please you. I swear I will ask Lieutenant Groves how to please a man at the very next party we attend.”

That was like a bucket of cold water over his arousal and Elizabeth only seemed to shrink a little when she realised that she was not having quite the effect she meant – James could not bear to see her look disappointed. “I only want to _know_ ,” she said quietly.

James kissed her softly and ran one hand up her back to hold her close and reassure her. “You already know how to please me,” he told her. “Elizabeth being close to you is more than enough to please me.”

“Is it?” Elizabeth said sounding a little hopeless. “Or is it just more than you ever thought you would have?”

James was quiet for a long moment. He could not deny there was an element of truth in that and he was torn between bowing to the idea she had to learn to please him and denying her something she wanted.

“Why don’t you start with what you think,” James said. “And I promise I shall indicate when you are right.”

 

It was perhaps one of the most difficult things James had ever done, trying to keep his wits about him while Elizabeth did her best to overwhelm him with pleasure. He thought he was failing entirely at indicating anything that was his particular preference because every touch from Elizabeth seemed to have him on the edge of being overwhelmed. He could not even tell if she was uncannily perceptive or if just her presence made him mad with want.   When she took him properly in hand, he lasted only a few minutes and then groaned her name as he spilt his seed over her hand. He should have been embarrassed but Elizabeth was so delighted that he could hardly bring himself to care. She bent down to kiss him wiping her hand on the sheets and squirming in his lap.

James rolled her over so he was atop and pressed her into the pillows with a series of deep kisses. “Your turn I believe,” but she reached for his hand when he went to touch her giving him pause. It had been a very active week and perhaps she had wanted to please him another way as a way of having some respite. A notion he would have to dissuade her of in future if so. “If you wish it?” he said carefully.

 

“I do,” Elizabeth said pressing a kiss to the hand she held and looking extremely pleased with herself. “It’s only – I have thought of a preference.” She did not seem nearly as shy about it as she had about pleasing him so he could only hope her worries over being wanton had been dismissed.

“Name it.” James told her and her cheeks did pink then and she ran one hand over his bare chest and glanced down at her worn chemise. “Whatever you want.”

“I like being skin to skin,” she said rubbing one leg against his. “I know it is not proper.”

James blinked. She could not possibly think he would object to that could she? “Anything you want is more important than proper,” James said without thinking. “I promise I will never deny you anything.” Then he felt guilty. “Never again anyway”

 “You will get yourself in trouble with promises like that,” Elizabeth warned him and James was not unaware. But frankly it felt like trouble he had earned after so many years of neglect – he wanted her to have anything she wanted. But she was squirming out of the chemise now and James was as hard as if she had not so much as touched him before.  

 

Despite his own arousal, James found himself unable to resist touching her when she was bare before him, running his hands over her soft pale skin, pressing his kisses to her breasts and stomach. He traced the faint lines there – reminders of Weatherby growing within her and closed his eyes against the image of her swelling with child again.

“You are so beautiful,” he told her and she smiled smugly at him. He wanted to see to her pleasure but when she felt him hard against her thigh, she reached to guide him inside her arching as he settled inside her and gasping his name. James could only be glad she had already brought him to climax once as it made it much easier to last when there was nothing at all between them and Elizabeth was whimpering with need even before he slipped a hand down to touch her. Elizabeth clung and pleaded in his ear for more the whole time. When she came this time, she nipped his shoulder hard and he groaned. There was nothing more wonderful than seeing her lose control in his arms and he buried his face in her hair as he finally stilled. “Elizabeth love,” he murmured and she held close and nipped gently at his neck.

“You liked that,” Elizabeth said. “Being bitten!” James could not deny it – he liked that she had been pushed to loss of control so he nodded and kissed her, holding his weight from her carefully. He did not wish to be inconsiderate. But the instant she broke the kiss she nipped him again looking entirely pleased with herself.

 

James reluctantly shifted from the bed and fetched both her chemise – she had thrown it to the floor and a nightshirt for himself. “I want to sleep like this,” Elizabeth said when he handed her the garment, stretching naked on the bed.

“Minx,” James said kissing her, then tugging the chemise over her head. After all, he had already played maid once tonight. Elizabeth sat up looking rumpled and outraged by his actions.  “For my own sake I would quite approve,” he explained. “But I do hope to delay explaining to Weatherby that marriage involves more than soppiness for at least another year or so. You will have to make do.” Frankly, James was a little surprised they had not been, if not interrupted at least joined by their son – thankfully Weatherby always wandered in the _middle_ of the night.

 

Elizabeth pulled the chemise the rest of the way down looking thoughtful. “Does he come to you often?” she asked. “I knew he did of a morning – but I did not realise he still wandered at night. I thought he had grown out of it.”

“Not very,” James said. “Not even once a week – and very seldom is he really upset. I think sometimes the bad dreams are really a want for an additional story.” James had never tried to discourage it – he missed so much of Weatherby’s childhood when he was at sea that he had never minded an interrupted night. “It sometimes happens a little more often when he knows I am to sail soon.”

“Sometimes I think this Navy plan of his is at least partially because he doesn’t know you wouldn’t assign him to your ship,” Elizabeth said. “He misses you like mad, you know.”

“Yes,” James said quietly slipping back into bed beside her. “You mentioned – in one of your letters.” The description of the tantrums Weatherby had had at being denied his father when younger had filled James with an odd mixture of relief and guilt. He would never want Weatherby to be upset but it seemed a much better proposition than Weatherby relishing the time James was away. As James had with his own father. “Well perhaps the next time I sail I will have two correspondents to write to,” he said. He had never written to Weatherby before even though he probably should have. He had assumed Elizabeth would disapprove given their history of disagreeing on correspondence.

“Indeed,” Elizabeth said settling herself in his arms. “Though you will have to behave in your letters as no doubt Weatherby will want to read mine as well.”

“I would not write anything improper,” James said suddenly concerned. Had tonight prompted that – had he asked too much of her.

“I know,” Elizabeth said. “But I will. Weatherby will have no interest in my replies to you I’m sure.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Elizabeth disagree about the best use of her stockpiled resources.

James had been startled by the amount of money Elizabeth had managed to stash away. Once it had all been retrieved – a matter that had been complicated given his intent to not let Weatherby know. It would hardly help matters for their son to know that his long-ago game with his mother had involved burying real money. Once it had all be gathered together, a process that had taken weeks – one chest at a time it had been gathered together in his study. The amount from the vase strewn across his desk the dug-up chests standing on a dust cloth. There was certainly more than eight years allowances there – even accounting for the increases and her father’s careless generosity.

Elizabeth had the grace to look a little sheepish as they both stared at the amount. “I sold some of the furnishings,” she said. “From my room.”

“I gathered,” James said. She still had not replaced them though she had plenty of funds now – he had made sure of that even before they had started to gather this money. Instead, she had scolded him fiercely for paying more attention to the fixtures than to her. She had been rather overstating her case but it had redirected his attention rather firmly.

“And your presents,” Elizabeth added in a quiet tone. “Those too. All the jewellery. And anything else you gave me.”

James pressed a kiss to her cheek, she sounded ashamed but he had already surmised this as well. He would not scold her because she had wanted to provide for her son rather than wear jewellery from the husband she believed hated her.

“I’m glad,” he said trying to tease and it certainly startled her. “I had begun to think you rather hated my taste.” Elizabeth flushed and did not so much as smile.

 

“Even that would not account for all of this,” James said staring at the desk.

“I’m quite good at cards,” Elizabeth said. “Not at all popular as an opponent these days but very good when I can get a game.” She sat down in a chair. “And I may have given my father to understand the opposite. He’s given me quite a bit to settle my debts.”

She had kept busy. “I will put all this an account for you,” he said. “But you will see to your room?”

“I will,” she said exasperated. “I may even be able to buy back some of the jewellery. I am certain they will have the pieces from my birthday still.”

“You do not have to buy your own jewellery,” James protested and Elizabeth blinked at him.

“It is a little much to expect you to buy it twice,” she said. “I did rather like the emeralds.” She sounded wistful.

“Not the amber?” James said. It was not often he got a chance to find out her preferences.

“Very much,” Elizabeth admitted. “But you gave that to Weatherby to give to me,” she pointed out a little awkwardly. “I still have it.” He pulled her close for a kiss. He had never seen her wear the pieces that were presented to her by Weatherby either but it was something that she had kept them.

 

Elizabeth held tightly to him for a long moment. “I must seem so ungrateful,” she said.

“Not at all,” James said. He had never wanted her to be grateful. He had contemplated on several occasions if he should stop buying her presents she clearly did not want and had no interest in. He did not mind the cost but it had seemed rather pointless when her disapproval had always been clear. But he’d been unable to come up with anything she would prefer and he had refused to give her any further reason to be aggrieved with him.

“Weatherby asked me this year why we never did anything for your birthday,” Elizabeth said suddenly. “I told him you were away at sea. That we had got you a book.”

“I know,” James said. “He asked me what book it was when I came home. And asked if he could read it too – I had bought a travelogue before I sailed so I said that and that we could read it together. We were making good progress with Astley’s Voyages before his sword lessons started – he has rather less patience for reading these days, at least with me.”

“That was hardly my point,” Elizabeth said. “I have never given you anything.”

“Now that is just not true,” James said. “You have given us a second chance.” James was still filled with wonder that their lives could be so different “And if you had been buying me presents before I would have assumed it was out of duty. So, I would have appreciated them as much as you have the jewellery.” James hesitated. “If you had sent me off with a present I would have assumed it was for the same reasons as your previous correspondence.”

“Well now I am going to spoil you,” Elizabeth said. “Seeing as I appear to have come into some money.”

 

James had not taken that comment seriously at first. Elizabeth had questioned him over how she could make him happier. He had been unable to imagine wanting anything else in their current situation between Elizabeth’s fond affection. Weatherby’s constant demands for his attention and the thought of being a father all over again. Elizabeth had only taken his claims to be completely satisfied with life as a challenge.

Elizabeth did spend her money on herself at first. She replaced the paintings and hangings and the mirror in her room. She did reacquire the emeralds he had given her for her birthday and had bought several new dresses. She had several dozen new nightgowns nearly all of which he found distracting – for as long as she had them on – which often wasn’t long.

She did not stop with her own room. First, it was the hangings on his bed were upgraded. Then the rug. His shaving mirror was replaced. He acquired several new paintings of his own unexpectedly.

 

And then she had made several changes to the menu which was clearly accounting for his tastes. Adding fish courses which they had tended not to have except at formal dinners – James had never been a naval man who bored of seafood and several of his favourite dishes were fish. He was entirely baffled by how she had known his preferences. He was not the only one who noticed the changes.

“Why are we having this?” Weatherby had asked suspiciously poking at the venison he’d been served with a fork. He was not a fussy eater usually though – the only thing he seemed to dislike was the bland food that was served in the nursery He complained bitterly whenever he was forced to eat in the nursery even though it was only when he was ill or on very rare occasions banished there in because he was in disgrace rather than eating most meals there as other children his age would. James did not even know how Elizabeth had managed to source venison – deer were scarce in Jamaica.

“It is your father’s favourite,” Elizabeth told him. “And not often available. Don’t pull faces until you’ve tried it.”

Weatherby of course was suddenly much keener on the meal after being told James liked it which made James feel an odd kind of pleasure even while he worried Weatherby would force himself to eat it even if he didn’t like it. Elizabeth took one bite, pulled a face which Weatherby thankfully missed and covered the venison in cherry sauce.

 

It was only after Weatherby had been sent off to bed with much fuss as usual that she admitted. “I had forgotten how much I don’t like game.”

“You needn’t have it served,” James said.

“I think I can manage the odd time Mrs Potter manages to source it,” Elizabeth said. “It is your favourite, isn’t it?”

“I liked it at as a child,” James said. “I take it you have been talking to Theo Groves again.” The Groves estate had had the biggest deer park in the neighbourhood.

“I would not have to,” Elizabeth said. “If you would tell me what you want.”

“And I can only tell you again,” James said. “I have everything I could possibly want.”

“We shall see,” Elizabeth said stubbornly. Then she spent a week tracking down a vintage of brandy convinced he would like it and then trying to source candied chestnuts. A sweet James had not eaten since his first shore leave when his mother had fed him so many he had vomited. He had not eaten them since.

He had given Theo Groves to inventory duty twice now to keep him away from Elizabeth which the lieutenant complained was highly unfair. “It is not my fault,” the Lieutenant said. “She does not take no for an answer you know. You are lucky I didn’t just make something up.”

 

James had instead retorted to making his point in another fashion, he purchased Elizabeth a box of sugared violet creams. She had wrinkled her nose at them. “Those taste of perfume,” she said.

“I remember you thought them the height of sophistication once,” James said innocently.

“Yes well, my tastes have changed somewhat since I was twelve,” she told him and then trailed off. “Oh,” she said.

“Indeed,” James said and pulled her close for a kiss. “I promise you, Elizabeth. I have absolutely everything I want right here already.”

He was not entirely sure she was convinced but she did stop shopping for him.

 

It was when he was next due to sail that Elizabeth stubborn to the last managed to spoil him again in her own way. They had spent the evening in the parlour – Weatherby had been allowed to stay up as James was leaving tomorrow and he had settled with some coaxing in his mother’s lap while she had settled against James and instructed him to read. Weatherby had fallen asleep eventually despite tales of Africa and James had carried him to the nursery and put him to bed.

When James got to his own room, Elizabeth was awaiting him in his bed. She was naked but had covered herself in a single sheet – as a cover, it was highly ineffective, it only looked entirely sheer in the lamplight.

“I would like to try something new,” she said letting the sheet fall and utterly distracting him which no doubt was deliberate.

“Alright,” James had said leaning down to kiss her and when she reached for the fastenings of his clothing he let her have her way running his hands down the smooth skin of her back to hold her against him. But he objected a little when she pushed him into the pillows and moved out of his reach. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you want?” he asked.

Elizabeth leant down to kiss him. “No,” she said cheekily. “I am going to show you,” and then her mouth was on his neck and kissing down his body and he blinked at her sure she could not be doing what she seemed to be doing – she had refused utterly when he had tried to please her in such a fashion actually blushing and claiming it wasn’t proper and he, of course, had not pushed. But then her mouth was on him and he arched and closed his eyes.

“Elizabeth, you do not have to do that,” he said rather desperately. “Please.”

“I do not have to,” she said. “I want to.” And then she was feathering kisses down his manhood as her clever hands teased him. Elizabeth was as always; a quick learner and James could not tell if her switching between rather the focused attention where she took as much of him in her mouth as she could manage and teasing kisses and licks that had him pleading were a deliberate attempt to drive him mad or just Elizabeth working out how this worked. And he could not demand anything of her so he bit back half a dozen pleading requests for more feeling like his heart might beat right out of his chest. It was only her determination to switch between these that allowed him to finally persuade her up so he could claim her mouth with his as he spilt his pleasure on the sheets between them.

Elizabeth kissed him back and when he moved his kisses down her body looking up at her questioningly, she only looked further pleased. He had his mouth on her thigh by the time he considered this might be an attempt to let him have his way – she had not wanted this before. “You are sure?” he said as he pressed kisses to the soft skin.

“Completely certain,” Elizabeth said. “ _Please_ James.”

Unlike Elizabeth, James was helpless in the face of her pleading and he lowered his mouth to her lavishing his attention where she was most sensitive and being startled by how much she moved beneath him. It was all he could do to keep up with her squirming placing his hands on her hips to hold her as he lapped at her until she cried out and he saw the pleasure shudder through her. He kissed back up her body making her giggle a little as he found ticklish spots on her stomach and pressed a kiss to each breast.

“Have you been convinced that is proper now?” James asked holding her close to him. He wanted her as close as she could be – knowing even a short tour would seem long now that their family life was sorted.  He could only hope she had not followed through on her threat to Lieutenant Groves about what a man liked in bed. 

“Quite the opposite!” Elizabeth said. “That’s why I liked it. And I liked the idea before truly James but I wanted,  well I suppose wanted to make the most of the chances we had to conceive – part of me was sure you would change your mind any day back then.”

James suddenly felt guilty himself. He knew how much she wanted a child “I suppose we should not have wasted a chance when I am to be away for a time.” he said.

“It was not a waste,” Elizabeth said. “You have shared my bed near every night for eight weeks without pause James.”

“I take your meaning,” James said flushing and suddenly feeling very demanding. “I suppose that is ample effort,” he said. “But I might be away a month or more and - ”

“Actually I rather think you missed my meaning entirely,” Elizabeth interrupted quietly but with a fierce triumph in her voice and James looked at her confused.

“Eight _uninterrupted_ weeks,” Elizabeth said again. “At any rate, you being away this month might mean you miss it when I start vomiting every morning.”

James lay there stock still for a moment as her words didn't make sense and then suddenly they did. “Elizabeth?” he asked. “Truly?”

“It is early days,” Elizabeth said. “But yes. Truly!” She laughed in delight as he pulled her close and refused to let her go, his delight palpable.

James slept very little that night holding Elizabeth in his arms, one hand resting against the flat of her stomach and picturing her swollen with child. He had never been as elated in his life.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Weatherby have a talk once James returns from sea.

James had been fairly reluctant to leave _before_ Elizabeth’s news. Now he could only think of a hundred reasons to stay fussing over her from the instant she woke in his arms and badgering her with queries. “I will see a midwife eventually,” she informed him. “It is far too early yet James.” She would not be convinced otherwise despite his best effort. “Besides,” she reassured, “I know what I am doing this time. I know what to eat and what will help. I will be fine.” James was forced to acquiesce that she was more expert in this area than him.

“When will you tell Weatherby?” he asked as well suddenly thinking of that.

“Not until you are back,” Elizabeth said. “I thought we could tell him together. After all, if he has any questions about having a sibling he will have to direct them to you.”

“I am sure he will be entirely confident he can manage,” James said. Weatherby was like his mother in that very little seemed to flummox him.

 

At the docks where they came to see him off, Elizabeth kissed him in front of everyone until her father cleared his throat and James flushed.

“Grandfather can you not make them stop that?” Weatherby asked plaintively.

“I haven’t been able to make your mother do anything since she was younger than you are now.” Weatherby Swann told his namesake fondly.

“Lies and calamities,” Elizabeth said. “I was a perfect child.  Tell them, James.”

“Indeed,” James said. “A model of good sense and behaviour from what I recall.” Weatherby eyed them all suspiciously – clearly, this did not jive with other tales he had heard of his mother’s youth. But James thought it was well worth the white lie to see the pleased surprise on Elizabeth’s face.

James knelt down to look Weatherby in the eye. “Now you will look after your mother for me?” he said. “And be a good boy for her so I do not have to worry while I am at sea.”

Weatherby took this very seriously. “I will Father,” he said. “I will look after Mother – I promise and I will be good – until you are back anyway.”

Elizabeth’s laughter at that claim echoed in James’ ears long after the Dauntless had sailed.

 

It was not a long tour so despite Elizabeth’s promise over correspondence James did not really expect to hear from her – it was a surprise that at their first supply run to receive letters from her and Weatherby. And he had planned to send his letters to them even if he might beat the letters back to Port Royal. Weatherby had been ever so excited by the notion of getting his own post.

But it turned out that Weatherby was not just excited to receive post. James was not the only one to receive a note from his son. Weatherby had also written to both senior Lieutenants on board and to young Thompson who did not seem to hold a grudge over Weatherby’s gambling as he seemed quite pleased to have the letter.

Elizabeth had managed to refrain from improperness in her note.

_‘Dearest James_

_Let me start by assuring you of my health as I know you will be fretting. I am fine and well and as delighted as ever by my condition._

_Weatherby, as you can see, has been quite busy with his correspondence. It was his intent to write to every officer but I have persuaded him it would be ill mannered to write to men he is not personally acquainted with no matter their connection to you. However, as he has met Lieutenant’s Groves and Gillette and young master Thompson whoever he might be, I was unable to prevent his correspondence to them. He has written very polite notes – I assure you. He is also keeping my father quite busy by writing to him each morning – if he does not have a response by the afternoon post, he writes again and scolds my father for neglecting his correspondence so if you could encourage the lieutenants to reply it would be appreciated. I am sure he will be more easily dissuaded by the wait._

_I miss you very much – thought Weatherby is taking the duty you tasked him with very seriously and has offered to stay with me at night if I should be lonely or have bad dreams. His only condition is that I am not soppy and he has wandered through a couple of times to check on me when he wakes in the night. He has not shared my bed since he was three or four – I had forgotten how much he shifts about and he kicks! And when he wakes early and reads his Latin he insists I wake up to hear it._

_He practices his footwork every day in lieu of more exciting sword play. I am often tasked with watching and correcting him if he should put a foot wrong. If I should correct him I am quizzed with what do I know about it. If so much as look away I am accused of neglect. I fear I am considered a very poor substitute for you._

_Stay safe and hurry home,_

_All my love_

_Elizabeth.’_

 

The note reassured him, made him smile and made him worry that she might be hurt by Weatherby’s showing a preference. He had no idea how to address that. Most of all it made him miss her. Weatherby’s note was briefer but still a joy to read.

_‘Dear Father,_

_Mother is mostley well but misses you very much. Sometimes she is sickley which she says is because she miss’s you and I cannot complain she is being soppy because she is unwell.  I am well too and hope you are well._

_Grandfather is probabley well also but I have not had a repley to my latest letter so he may not be. He is a very poor correspondent at times but Mother will not take me to visit so I can say so or let me put it in a letter. Mother says I have to respect my elders and that Grandfather is verey busy. So I have said I will go and help. Look how good my penmanship is. I could write all of Grandfather’s letters much faster than his clerks and then he could keep mother company so she does not miss you and won’t be sick. And I could show him my footwork as well. When you are back I can help with your reports also and that will set me in good stead for when I am an officer._

_Please write back soon. Mother says it might be weeks before we get a repley from you. That’s worse than Grandfather!_

_The weather is keeping fine._

_Your son and most humble, most obedient servant_

_Weatherby Norrington’_

James could not help but laugh at the note which was Weatherby on the page, interspersed with clear advice he’d received about letter writing from his tutor. He wondered what Groves and Gillette’s notes might say. Elizabeth said they were polite – which he suspected would pass muster with Lieutenant Groves. Gillette had a boy of his own who would likely need James’ influence before long so at least he might not take too much offence.

 

James wrote back even though he knew he would likely beat the replies back – so no doubt a scolding would be forthcoming from Weatherby. Still, it was not an entirely poor notion that Weatherby should spend some time learning what his grandfather did. If he liked it might not be so hard to persuade him against a military career. He was his mother’s son and James could only imagine that he would be a good politician. Elizabeth’s temper aside she could have easily governed a decent size colony if her sex did not bar her from such challenges.

They were delayed by a storm and away a month and a half all told, James was glad he had taken the time to write so hopefully there would not be too much worry.

 

In the end, it was the dark of night when James got home and he tries to be as quiet as possible as he made his way through the house. His room was dark and empty but there was a strip of light from Elizabeth’s door that made him wonder if she was awake. But it was just a low burning lamp perhaps lit whenever Weatherby had joined her as he was tucked up beside her bent over a book while Elizabeth slept.

“Father!” he shouted and James winced and grabbed him up as Weatherby attempted to scramble over his mother to greet his father.

“Shhh,” he said mildly. “Your mother is sleeping, Weatherby.”

“I was trying very hard,” Elizabeth said in a murmur. “But if you weren’t planning on waking me to tell me you were home, it would have gone badly for you so it is probably just as well.” She offered him a sleepy smile.

“Now you won’t be sick anymore Mother,” Weatherby said, a comment Elizabeth ignored. “Can we get up early and sword fight Father?”

“Weatherby,” Elizabeth said. “Your father has sailed through the night to be home as soon as he could for us. No-one will be getting up early tomorrow. Come to bed James.” Weatherby immediately looked hurt. “And you come back here without climbing on me,” Elizabeth said to him not missing a beat. “Read me a chapter of your book while your father prepares for bed.”

Weatherby was still reading to Elizabeth when James clambered in the bed with Weatherby between them his head drooping over the book as he fought sleep the best he could. When James took the book from him, he protested. “Don’t lose my place!” But then he curled into Elizabeth’s arms and went to sleep. Elizabeth reached for his hand over their son and James pressed a kiss to her palm and then let her settle.

 

In the morning he woke to just Elizabeth who had shifted herself and was pressed entirely against him. Weatherby had vanished. “Did he not want us to hear his Latin?” James asked and Elizabeth laughed and pulled him close.

“Do not encourage him,” she said and then she took up his hand and pressed it to her stomach. James was startled to feel the swell of the child beneath his hand – not noticeable so, he realised, it would not show if she was dressed but there was a definite curve that was detectable to touch.

“I have seen a midwife,” she told him. “And everything is fine as can be.” James beamed. “But we will have to tell Weatherby soon,” she said. “I no longer have an excuse for illness now you are home. Perhaps after a few lessons? At least then he will be in a good mood.”

“Of course,” James said. He rather thought Weatherby would like the idea of having a sibling. He seemed to make friends wherever he went.

 

But James was for once wrong about Weatherby who he had at least thought he understood even when he had not understood his wife at all. Weatherby had sat stonily silent while he was told his parent's happy news. Then he had asked politely after his mother’s health and then run off without another word or waiting to hear her answer. He avoided James whenever possible and did not even seem to want sword lessons anymore. James was not sure who was more panicked by this – himself or Elizabeth. “I was so sure he would be pleased,” Elizabeth said fretfully after a few days of sullen silence from Weatherby. “He used to ask for a brother when he was younger. Well, a brother or a dog. I said I would think about the dog.”

“I will talk to him,” James said.

“Give him a few more days,” Elizabeth said. “He might come round.”

 

But Weatherby did not and so one day when after his lessons with his tutor for the day were over Weatherby was in the gardens (giving the shrubs a good thrashing with a makeshift branch sword) as his lessons with James had effectively ceased.

“Weatherby, may I have a word?” James said. Weatherby nodded morosely.

“You know that your mother and I will not love you any less because we have another child.” James started.

“Oh, it is not that,” Weatherby said. “I do not mind the baby.” He gave James a very pointed look but James was baffled.

“Might I ask what you do mind?” he said. “Your mother said you wanted a brother once.”

“That was before I knew!” Weatherby blurted. “Do you not think it is horribly unfair to Mother?”

 

“Your mother wanted another baby very much,” James said feeling he understood Weatherby’s worry. He was a smart boy and he might understand the dangers more than a child his age otherwise would. He likely had more than one acquaintance who had lost a mother to childbirth after all. “After all she feels like her first attempt has turned out rather well,” James said fondly. Weatherby seemed to think on that a bit more and James almost relaxed. Which turned out to be a mistake.

 

“And you won’t cover Mother anymore then?” Weatherby said blindsiding James all over again. “Only Charlie -Charles Fitzsimmons- let me go with him and watch when his father was breeding his mares and it was awful. And Charlie says that is how it is when you are married. And that a man can cover his wife whenever he likes even if she doesn’t like it. And all the mares screamed and kicked and tried to bite the stallions. They didn’t seem pleased at all. I said you would never do that to Mother and Charlie laughed at me and said well you definitely had once or I wouldn’t be here.” Weatherby paused. “And I thought well maybe once might alright as obviously you wanted me and.”

“Weatherby,” James interrupted unable to hide his horror. “I do not cover your mother. It is not like that between men and women. We’re not horses.”

Weatherby looked suspicious “So you don’t put your –“

“There are some similarities,” James said desperately cutting off that sentence. “But men and women are not bred like horses, Weatherby. They marry those they can trust and love and it is different. I promise you.” He could only pray Weatherby would not ask if there was no screaming or biting involved then. “I would never ever hurt your mother,” he said and that was true enough now if his inadvertent neglect had hurt her in the past. “Never. Or do anything that she did not permit. That is how it is in a true marriage, Weatherby.”

 

“I am going to black both of Charlie’s eyes,” Weatherby declared after a long moment of fuming

“You will not,” James said. If nothing else the other boy had three years and three stone on Weatherby and while James would teach him to fight a larger opponent in a sword fight, he did not intend to encourage fisticuffs. “But I will be having a very firm word with his father.”

“But he is a liar, Father,” Weatherby said. “And now Mother is going to be upset and think I don’t want her to have a baby and I thought awful things about you.”

“A misunderstanding,” James said. “Shall we go in and see Mother. I think she’d be quite glad to hear you do want to be a big brother and then afterwards we could resume your lessons.”

Weatherby jumped to his feet and then paused. “I don’t have to explain to her do I?” she said. “About the mares? And covering.”

“No,” James said. “You do not.” He would have to tell Elizabeth later of course but he could spare Weatherby from having that conversation again.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth's pregnancy engenders protectiveness from husband and son.

Elizabeth’s delighted relief when Weatherby went to her and told her he was excited to be an older brother was almost worth sitting through the prior conversation about it. And telling Elizabeth about it later in bed was less traumatic than he thought it might be. Elizabeth clearly found it amusing which James did not appreciate. “Young master Fitzsimmons has a lot to answer for,” he said darkly.

“I know,” Elizabeth said calming a little. “But I suppose he is old enough that we should have expected some questions. Especially as it has been so long. When I was young my mother was always _enceinte_ it seemed. I thought it happened every year like the lambing and the harvest and gave very little thought to the cause. It was one of the few things I never questioned. My father doesn’t know how lucky he was.”

 

James paused. Elizabeth rarely mentioned her mother and he did not think as a comparison it was suitable. He wondered if it was a sign she was worrying a little. He slipped one hand over the slight swell of her stomach. “Well I feel that is not a comparison that would have convinced Weatherby of my innocence,” he said. “I am not sure the rams are any kinder than stallions. But you are well?” She seemed so. During her first pregnancy, she had been so upset – with grief, but she had been tired and wan throughout and so vulnerable that James had nearly constantly worried and yet tried to hide it because he had presumed his concern would have been unwelcome. But now – since James had been back apart from her worry over Weatherby and the odd unpleasant morning illness, Elizabeth had seemed the picture of health. She was bright and happy and was full of energy which meant getting her to rest was difficult. But he could not deny she looked well -  there was a flush to her skin and shine to her hair that meant she had never seemed more beautiful.

“I’m as well as when you asked when we came to bed,” Elizabeth said turning to jab him in the ribs. “Were you not listening?”

“I was.” James protested. “I just want to be sure I am not bothering you.”

“You are not,” Elizabeth said in a tone that had an edge of warning in it but then she paused a moment. “It is different,” she said. “To be so sure. Last time I was filled with panic the entire pregnancy. Even once we were married I felt . . . It seemed like I was going to have sole responsibility for a child. I know it was not the case.” She added quickly. “But I did not know that then. This time is different. Even if I was solely responsible – I know I can do it now. But I am not alone, I never was. And it is so much easier to know that though.” James felt appalled at the idea of her pregnant and frightened and Elizabeth pulled him close for a kiss. “But if you start feeling guilty about it,” she told him firmly. “I will stop telling you about how I feel. No fretting. It would upset me. And that would upset the child.”

James doubted perhaps the medical veracity of that statement but he could not argue with her – not in her condition so he held her close and did his best to wait on her hand and foot for the next few days.

 

In this, he had nothing but resistance from Elizabeth and an unexpected ally. “Mother, should you be in the garden?” Weatherby said to her when she came to watch a fencing lesson.

“Mother if I need vegetables doesn’t the baby need vegetables too?” Weatherby asked at dinner after carefully observing what Elizabeth was eating.

“Mother are you allowed to ride in the carriage?” When they went to visit her father. “Won’t it shake the baby?”

Elizabeth handled all of these questions with aplomb. The baby needed fresh air, meat and goodness did Weatherby think she should walk in her condition? James did not get involved. He was given a very firm warning though.

“If I find out you have put him up to any of this – you will regret it,” Elizabeth told him after Weatherby had spent the evening asking she should not sit so close to the window. James had seen the look on her face and decided Weatherby should have an early night. Weatherby had retired reluctantly muttering under his breath that it was not him who should have an early night.

“I have not,” James said. “He is merely a very conscientious son. A credit to his mother.”

 

Weatherby was not just concerned about Elizabeth’s health. He had come up with a number of follow up questions from his talk with James. His first question came in the middle of a sword lesson. “Father,” he had said carefully on his guard. “I know you would not hurt mother but are you not too heavy for her. It took two grooms to hold the mare in place when Charlie and I watched.”

Then he nipped in and caught James a blow on the ribs looking entirely too pleased with himself for his win. It was not strictly honourable of course but James supposed he should not have let himself be distracted. He sat Weatherby down and they had a very awkward conversation in which James mostly managed to impart the differences in logistics in a very vague fashion. In the end, he settled for first advising Weatherby he would understand when he was older and imparting the only bit of advice his father had given him that was not offensive about the matter; that a gentleman always took his weight on his elbows.

Weatherby’s other questions were by dint of comparison much easier to deal with, when would the baby come? When would they know if it was a boy or a girl? What were they going to call it?

Elizabeth had told him the child would arrive in the autumn and so James could assure Weatherby of that. And if Weatherby was unsatisfied to learn then would not know if it was a boy or a girl until it was here and that, of course, Elizabeth would name the baby, he did at least accept the answers.

 

That night Elizabeth curled close to him. “Did you tell Weatherby I would name the baby?” she asked sleepily. James pressed a kiss to her hair.

“Of course,” he said. “It only seems fair considering. You are doing all the work.”

“But you must have had ideas,” she said. “What you would want to call children? Weatherby has already presented me a list of suggestions for what he would like for the baby.”

“I dread to think,” James said. It had only been a year ago that as a treat Weatherby had been permitted to name his grandfather’s new pedigree horse. Weatherby had immediately named it Black Bess. Even if the Governor hadn’t minded having a horse named for a high way man’s steed – the animal in question was a horse was a fine grey so pale it was nearly white and was, in fact, a stallion.

“They are not all terrible,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Well – all the ones for boys are as he’s apparently decided they must match his initial and be no more suitable for nicknames than his name. Top of his list is Willoughby. And if he has a sister he clearly wants her to be named after a Greek goddess – Athena for preference but he has given us some other options.”

“What did you say to that?” James asked.

“I told him I liked the mythology idea,” Elizabeth said. “Perseus for a boy or Persephone for a girl. So that we can call them Percy for short either way.”

“You are a dreadful tease,” James said amused.

“Well,” Elizabeth said. “He has been such a fusspot James. I half expect him to start hovering at meals offering to blow and cool my food for me.” She kicked off a layer of blankets. “Don’t think I don’t know where he gets it from. You and your telling him to look after me whenever you go away.”

“It is good for young men to be challenged,” James said daring to tease her back and Elizabeth laughed and kissed him. “I quite like Persephone,” James added. “She will not need a nickname. It’s a lovely name – just as yours is.”

“Alright,” Elizabeth said. “But think of a better name for a boy. Willoughby is dreadful and does not even have the excuse of being a family name. I will allow you some input.”

 

James did not think that any period of time in his life had gone so fast. In no time at all, the swell of the child was visible beneath Elizabeth’s gowns and then the babe seemed to kick nearly all the time. Elizabeth had told him this was the case with Weatherby but it was different to feel it for himself. To lay beside her and sometimes feel the babe kick even before Elizabeth woke.

Weatherby was less keen on the baby moving. “It’s a very rude baby,” he said. “It’s not nice to kick.” This last was directed to Elizabeth’s midsection. As if the baby could hear him.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Elizabeth reassured him. “It’s the only way they can say hello until they are here. You used to kick just as much.”

Weatherby was extremely sceptical about that. “I would never kick mother,” he insisted when he and James were alone. “But I do not want to upset her.”

“I can assure you that you did,” James said amused and glad that he could truthfully say so having felt it all of once. “But it was taken with good intent.” Weatherby sulked for a week at being corrected.

 

The single voyage James spent at sea during the pregnancy seemed the longest of his life. Not even correspondence from his wife and son was enough to stop them missing them. Elizabeth had come to the docks to see him off despite the disapproving looks from matrons who thought she was too far along to be out. “I will be back before your time,” James promised even though he could not guarantee it and he would usually be loathe to make promises he was not sure he could keep.

“I will be well supervised if you are not,” Elizabeth said with a fond glance at Weatherby who was chasing young Thompson and ignoring his parents – no doubt due to the inevitable soppiness that a goodbye entailed. “Stay safe, James. And do not dare tell him he has to look after me – he does not need encouraging.

“Well if he does not need encouraging then it will make no difference if I say it or not,” James claimed innocently.

 

James did arrive home in time for the birth – he had not been sure when he docked as he had cut it close but when he arrived home, he was informed by the housekeeper that Elizabeth was both abed and asleep. Weatherby had clattered down the stairs to greet him complaining loudly that he had not been permitted to the docks unaccompanied. “I think not,” James had said scooping him up. He had shot up in height again in the months James had been at sea. “You have threatened on several occasions to stow away so you have only yourself to blame. How is your mother?”

Weatherby hesitated and James felt his heart lurch only to be reassured when Weatherby offered. “Mr O’Brien says people do not have litters,” he said. “But I do not think it can only be one baby in there, Father, Mother is _enormous_.”

James could not help but laugh a little. “I hope you did not say so to her?” he asked.

Weatherby looked as innocent as he could be which inevitably meant he had said _something_. “I only asked how many feet she could count when kicking,” he said.

 

James sent him back to his lessons and went to look in on Elizabeth, she was in bed but lightly dozing and despite her condition, he could not forget her warning so he went to her side and brushed one golden curl from her face. If she did not stir he could claim he had tried. But she woke at once and smiled sleepily at him.

“On time as promised,” she said and pulled him close for a kiss. James rested on hand on her belly and returned the kiss softly. He had not seen Elizabeth at all in the weeks before Weatherby’s birth when she had been confined to bed.

“I keep my word,” he said. “Are you well?”

“No!” she said. “I am exhausted and huge – I cannot believe I forgot how infuriating this part is. But it will be over soon – I cannot get any bigger and then it will all be worth it.”

She shifted slightly in the bed and James lay next to her for most of the afternoon. He was very glad to be home.

 

The next day, however, James was blindsided a little when Elizabeth had a request for him. “When I am brought to bed, I don’t want Weatherby in the house,” she said. “You can take him to the Fort or to my father’s or for a ride. Anything to get him out and about”

“What?” said James startled. Then he wouldn’t be here either. Of course, he had not been present when Weatherby was born – he had waited downstairs with her father who had come to support them both. It had been an uncomfortable afternoon listening to her cries of pain and there had been a sense of relief for both of them when they had heard Weatherby’s first cry. “I will not leave you alone,” he said.

“I won’t be alone,” Elizabeth said. “You would not be allowed in the room anyway. I will have a midwife and all the rest. You remember what it was like the first time – I don’t want him to hear it.” Elizabeth paused. “You are the youngest in your family. You do not know what it is like. And I am sure I will be fine but my last memory of my mother is her screaming in childbirth and I do not want that for Weatherby.”

James hesitated. “I will take Weatherby to your father’s,” he said. “Then I will come home.” This compromise was considered acceptable.

 

It was the last compromise that was accepted as Elizabeth grew nearer her time her temper seemed to be on a knife edge and there was no arguing with her about anything. She flatly refused to have anything but her own way and every now and again seemed close to tears. James decided that discretion was the greater part of valour and except for her odd determination to be up and about which worried him Elizabeth’s word was law.

He started taking Weatherby with him to the Fort whenever he was not being tutored because Elizabeth was resting and Weatherby was not generally a quiet child. It was one day when he had done such that he was interrupted by the arrival of a footman from home to tell him Mrs Norrington had sent for the midwife. He deputised Lieutenant Groves with looking after Weatherby and left for home at once.

 

When he arrived, he was shocked to hear the distinct sound of a baby crying. James had only been out an hour or two and it had taken most of an afternoon and a night for Weatherby to arrive. Was a quick labour was a bad sign. He rushed upstairs to be refused entry to Elizabeth’s room by the stern looking midwife. “You have a fine healthy girl,” he was told. “But we are not finished.” The door was closed in his face while James had barely registered that fact and stunned wondered if Weatherby could be right.

But it was not twins – just some part of the process that came after the child and of course the midwife would not let him until the child was washed and fed and who knows what else. On her way, out the woman had the cheek to tut at him and he could hear her telling the housekeeper a decent husband would have given his wife a chance to rest before demanding entry to her room.

James ignored it. He was not going to stop Elizabeth from resting. She looked as perfect as ever sat up in the bed, her hair damp with sweat and her entire attention captured by the bundle in her arms.

 

Elizabeth beamed at him when she finally noticed him. “Come and meet your daughter,” she said and handed the baby to him without him even having to ask. The baby squirmed a little in her blankets, she had quite a bit of golden hair – much like Weatherby had had when he was born though she looked much more squashed than Weatherby had – though James had not gotten a close look at Weatherby for some weeks after his birth. He was amazed how much smaller the baby was than he remembered and he wondered at his memory. “They all look like that when new,” Elizabeth said in a small voice. “I know – I know you did not see Weatherby much when he was this young.”

“She is perfect,” James assured. “Persephone,” he added smoothing the blankets to look at her tiny hands and worrying when she wriggled a little. Perhaps he should give her back but he could not bring himself to surrender her any earlier, knowing Elizabeth would no doubt want her back soon enough anyway.

Elizabeth smiled. “I was not sure if you meant that, but I actually think it suits. Even if she won’t look as much like a pomegranate in a day or so.”

“She does not look like a pomegranate!” James said horrified. “She is lovely.” Elizabeth beamed at that. “Like her mother,” he added. “You look radiant, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I am sure I do not,” she said. “I feel wrung out. I had no idea it could happen so quickly. She must be an impatient little thing.” She held out her arms and James transferred Persephone back to her mother carefully.

“Indeed,” James said. “I wonder where she might get that from.” Elizabeth only laughed and gazed down at her daughter. James had never seen her so content and right now he could not imagine being any more satisfied with life than he currently was.

 


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen years later an expanded Norrington family wait (impatiently) for news of Weatherby's exploits in England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the extended Norrington family will be recognisable from my other fics, but you don't need to have read them.

FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

 

Elizabeth was pacing again but that was nothing new. She had been pacing ever since they had received the shocking letter from James’ mother and there was no calming her nor would she let the other children far out of her sight. Persephone had curled up on the rug with a book and looked completely disinterested. As Weatherby’s closest sibling in age, she had managed to have to least interest in her eldest brother’s exploits as well as the greatest chance of actually knowing what he was up to. She had solemnly promised she knew nothing of what he was up to in England. Minny and Jamie had been sat firmly on a settee with instructions not to move.

Jamie fidgeted helplessly and after a long moment of consideration he hopped up to trail after his mother. At five years old he hated nothing more than sitting still.

“Jamie sit down,” Elizabeth said at once.

“Shan’t,” Jamie said. “It’s rude,” he added triumphantly glancing to wear his father stood. Of course, James would stand if Elizabeth was and while Jamie was a little young for that rule to apply he was not strictly incorrect. Elizabeth eyed him and then scooped him up and sat down herself holding Jamie on one knee to his outrage. Jamie was the child who most resembled James in looks - their only dark-haired child though both he and Persephone had his green eyes – but when he scowled he still managed to be Elizabeth in miniature.

 

“I am going to throttle Theo Groves,” Elizabeth said. “He said he would release Freddie from duty the instant the _Reliant_ docked.”

“He meant the instant it was feasible, Mother,” Persephone drawled not even looking up from her book. “And it is not as if we know cousin Alfred will have any more information. He’s been at sea while Weatherby was in England. Why would he know what Weatherby was up to?”

“Because they are thick as thieves and always have been,” Elizabeth said tightly, then the tension between her and their eldest daughter palpable. While James believed Persephone utterly when she said she knew nothing about Weatherby’s plans in England, Elizabeth was not as convinced. James had defended Persephone but had been unable to argue with Elizabeth’s direct experience of being a teenage girl.

“Nearly always,” Persephone said tossing her blonde hair. She was the only one of the children to remember that Alfred and Weatherby had detested each other at first. Weatherby furious that Alfred was to have a naval career when he had been talked out of it. Though to be fair it had been more the idea of Alfred than his actual personage and when he had arrived in Port Royal a full year before he could go to sea even as a officers servant, underfed and scrawny Weatherby had taken it as a mission to see Alfred fully prepared for sea. It had been before Jamie’s birth and Weatherby had quickly converted to having another male ally in the house – his sisters had been ganging up on him for years. Weatherby and Freddie now had grand plans where Weatherby would eventually have his grandfather’s post and Freddie would have James’ post in the Admiralty and they would be grand allies in controlling the Caribbean. Freddie had done his part by passing the lieutenant’s exam at sixteen and Weatherby had left for England to attend university and work at court with his grandfather’s influence behind him.

“Oh shush Sephy,” said Minny – the only one who could use that nickname and not earn Persephone’s temper. Minny had always been a peace keeper, which Elizabeth attributed to her being born after James made Admiral and more subject to his good example in her youth. When Jamie began to wriggle she added. “Come and sit with me, Jamie, I have some humbugs.” Thus, bribed Jamie went to his sister.

 

James went to Elizabeth and drew her close. “I am sure Weatherby is perfectly well,” he said. And added more quietly. “Earning my parent’s disapproval means very little. I have been in my father’s bad books since I was six years old for the crime of failing to drown.” Yet the letter they had received had been very shocking. James’ mother was the more reasonable of his parents and her letter declaring that Weatherby was a disgrace to the Norrington name and should be disowned – without any specific details of why had come as a great shock. Weatherby had only meant to make a short visit to his paternal grandparents before he came back home to work for the grandfather he knew best. To make it worse Weatherby had also written – a letter dated a week before his grandmother’s that had said he had booked passage home and was bringing a surprise. What had happened in that week?

Elizabeth had a great fear that some rumour had reached James’ parents and they had told Weatherby of his parentage. They had agreed some years ago that it would not help Weatherby to know. That it might make him feel rather different to his siblings who he had always doted on from the exalted position of being the eldest. But James could not see how they could have heard such gossip and if they had why Weatherby should believe it. He had to his disgust seem ample evidence of his parent’s affection for each other over the years. He had proclaimed himself rather traumatised by Jamie’s arrival.

 

* * *

 

“Really,” Weatherby had said at the time. “Do you not think perhaps you should act your age,” James had been embarrassed himself and had no answer to that. But Elizabeth had scolded Weatherby mercilessly that they had no call to be ashamed when he was in danger of being caught in the gardens with half the debutants of Port Royal.

Jamie had been a surprise though – there family had seemed quite complete when Minerva was born, two years after Persephone. A decision that had been reinforced because that had not been an easy pregnancy for Elizabeth.  After that, they had made an effort to time matters accordingly something that had been forgotten one drunken night just after Weatherby’s eighteenth birthday that had led to more happy news. James had fretted through the entire pregnancy from the instant he’d been told and rapidly been forbidden to fuss by Elizabeth.

“I will not have you calling me old,” she had told him.

“Not at all,” James had said, though thirty-seven was old for childbirth and they both knew it. “It is me. I am too old and creaky to chase another toddler around.”

“Yet you seemed so spry when you were duelling Weatherby, just this morning,” Elizabeth had said. “And in fact two months ago when this happened. Stop worrying, this will be our last I promise. We’ll be careful.”

Jamie had rewarded James’ attempts to not worry by arriving nearly a full month early and though Elizabeth had promised faithfully James would actually get to name this child, the timing had meant he had been at sea. The early birth had been bad and Elizabeth had woken several days later to find that her son had been named by his elder sisters as the midwife had called in a priest for an immediate christening. Jamie had been small at first but had rapidly grown and made clear that his early arrival was only the start of an ongoing campaign to have life entirely his own way.  

* * *

 

By the time Alfred did arrive, Elizabeth had sent Jamie off to the nursery and Minny with him to try and keep him calm and had ended up squabbling with Persephone who would not go – she wanted to hear what cousin Freddie had to say and why was mother fussing anyway. “It is not as if we care what Grandfather and Grandmother Norrington think,” Persephone said pointedly. “They did not even write when Father made flag rank – not for months.” James had beaten his father by making Admiral a full two years younger than his father had and it was the sort of thing that would result in a grudge. Persephone was too young to remember of course yet it was the sort of thing she picked up on all the time.

“Persephone Norrington, you apologise to your father at once,” Elizabeth said. And Persephone blinked at him.

“I am sorry Father,” she said. “That was unkind of me to say.” But it had been true, James thought. He did not say it though not when Persephone was so easily apologising.

“It is alright my dear,” he had said. Then the doorbell had rung and Persephone abandoned them in rush to be the first to greet her cousin as if they did not have staff to see him in.

 

Freddie did know something of the matter once he’d been shown in and properly fussed over. He had lately made second lieutenant which warranted much fanfare.

“Freddie do you know what Weatherby is about in England?” Elizabeth asked the instant his health had been established and congratulations had been offered. “We have had the strangest letter from your grandparents and. . .” Elizabeth did not need to carry on – Freddie had flushed the instant he mentioned England.

“I asked him to check on my sister,” Freddie said a little nervously. “My full sister.” He had so many siblings but only one with whom he shared a mother. “Her letters have been odd lately and we had agreed when I was younger that as soon as I was settled Althea would run my house for me. But she wrote to say she preferred to stay home with father and help raise our half brothers and sisters. But I am sure that is what father would prefer so he does not have to pay for a governess and not what she wanted at all. I asked Weatherby to visit and if she needed it . . . to pay her passage out here. I could afford my own lodgings now.” He added a little defensively. “I could keep her and myself.”

“As if there would be any need,” Elizabeth said scolding her nephew at once. “We would be happy to have Althea. We would have sent for her at once if you had said. But why would that result in your grandparents behaving as they have?” She looked at James confused but James was not confused at all. Elizabeth had never met his parents – she had no desire to go to England and James had never extended the invite to his parents though he doubted they would accept it

 

“Because if there was any conflict between Weatherby and my brother they would have believed my brother,” James said. How much argument would his brother have put up to his daughter having a new life that would cost him nothing? Just to save on the cost of a governess? James would not have said a lot. But he was under no illusions that Weatherby would have considered any amount of argument appropriate. It would not be the first run in with his uncle he had had. Early in Weatherby’s first term of university, Archibald had offered to take him to London and set him up at a gentleman’s club. He’d then immediately attempted to fleece Weatherby at cards. He’d ended up owing Weatherby fifty guineas which as far as James knew was still outstanding. And if Freddie had asked Weatherby to intervene on behalf of his sister then Weatherby would take that seriously. He had spent most of his teenage years trying to drag Persephone out of one mishap or another.

Freddie looked awkward. “I am sorry if I have caused difficulties,” he said. “I did not think Father would be awkward if it involved – well he would not want Uncle James to know of his debts.”

“It is not your fault,” Elizabeth assured at once. “And I am sure Althea is quite well and if she is not with Weatherby then we will work something out.” James nodded reassuringly but Freddie only looked miserable. He knew very well that that working anything out with his father would involve money changing hands and he could not help but be embarrassed by the fact.

“Never mind Freddie,” Persephone said. “I am sure it won’t matter now Uncle Archibald and Weatherby aren’t in the same country, why don’t you come with me to see the children.” In this Persephone did not count herself as Elizabeth had promised her that she could have her debut once Weatherby was home a concession which Persephone believed meant she was counted an adult and only held back by her brother’s absence.  “Jamie will be wild to hear about your latest tour. I am to have my debut as soon as Weatherby is home. I do hope you’ll be home for it.”

 

The instant they were alone Elizabeth turned to him. “Well,” she said. “That settles one thing. Jamie is not going to university. In fact, the instant Weatherby is home I am forbidding him from ever leaving Jamaica again.”

James pulled her close again. “Well you must let Persephone have her debut first,” he said. “For nothing will have him determined to set sail again quicker than being forbidden and I fear we will never be permitted to delay it any further.”

Elizabeth smiled ruefully. “There is that,” she said. “You know I know my father says I deserve it but I can’t believe we did this four times and only one of them has your temperament. Poor Minny, she told me yesterday that she would be happy to wait for her debut as long as I liked.”

“Minny is perfectly happy doting on Jamie,” James said. “And I am happy to hold back her debut as long as she likes. They grow up far too quickly.” But Elizabeth did settle some to have some explanation of why his parents would write so about their eldest son.

In fact, in a few days, her temper had turned the other way. “Your parents have always been ridiculous about your brother.” Elizabeth fumed. “The great neglectful bully. As if he should have all his own way because he is the eldest. He is a worthless layabout.”

James had no argument for that. “Whatever he is, he is an ocean away,” he said. “But Freddie is not.”

“I would not say so in front for Freddie,” Elizabeth snapped and spent the next three days fussing over Persephone and the plans for her debut.

 

James had been worried about Weatherby anyway but at least part of his relief on the day Weatherby arrived home was because Elizabeth would perhaps stop driving the entire household mad with her need to keep busy. Weatherby looked none the worse for wear and had with him a lovely young woman whose resemblance to Freddie made her identity obvious.

“Weatherby,” Elizabeth had said and flung himself at him. “What have you been up to!”

“Nothing improper,” Weatherby said, patting her back and not even complaining about the fuss which clearly meant he had done something improper. “I am sorry if Uncle Archibald has made a fuss but Althea is of age and perfectly entitled to her own life.”

Althea looked terrified, James noticed and belatedly so did Elizabeth. “Of course, you are,” she said. “You need not think we care a fig for your father – you are perfectly welcome Althea. And of course, you can stay with us. Freddie does not need his own household.”

But this only made Althea blush and then Weatherby too.

“Well ah,” Weatherby said. “I rather thought we might establish our own household Mother.” He reached for Althea and was looking more at her than Elizabeth when he added. “Althea is my wife.”

It was not very often that James got to see Elizabeth surprised and he worried for a long moment that she would be dreadfully hurt by the news. Before Weatherby added. “I am sorry that we did not wait – but Uncle Archibald was being quite ridiculous. And I could not leave Althea there, Mother. It was not at all suitable.” There was an edge of temper in his voice and Althea looked like she might cry and apparently that was all it took to have Elizabeth think on her feet.

“I should think not,” Elizabeth said. She embraced Althea quickly. “But I want to hear all about it. And you need not think I will make any explanation to your sisters on your behalf. You are on your own there.”

 

* * *

 

It was a long and not particular pleasant story in the end. Althea’s strange letters to Freddie were because her father had said she could either write that she was happy and keep up the correspondence or if she told the truth her letters would not be franked. When Weatherby had started to call on Freddie’s behalf he had quickly seen the truth. There had been a great deal of blushing from both the young couple and a rather vague explanation of when their relationship had changed – which seemed more than enough for James if he was honest. But it did not explain the letter or the reaction of James’ parents. Weatherby had been proper. He had asked his uncle for Althea’s hand.

“He said I could have Alicia,” Weatherby had said his voice tight with remembered temper. “That Althea was on the shelf and needed at home. And when I said that I loved Althea – that I did not want her sister he said I was a sentimental idiot like,” Weatherby cut off. Though James knew exactly who Weatherby would have been compared to there. “Then he said if I was so determined to be foolish, I would have to pay him the cost of a governess to take her.” He paused. “I knew, of course, he had been a terrible father. That he is an idiot and a spendthrift and a drunkard.” He turned to Althea then, “forgive me, love.”

“No,” Althea said. “He is all those things. I would never defend him.” She clung tightly to Weatherby’s hand – she had not let go since he had made his announcement.

“But it was different,” Weatherby said. “To hear him say so. To have him be so cruel. I would have called him out but he is my uncle. And he’s old and out of shape. So I gave him back the IOU for the money I won off him when I first arrived and said that cancelling that debt should hire him a dozen servants. And then it went rather wrong.”

“Then my father tried to strike Weatherby,” Althea corrected. “Weatherby only acted in self-defence.”

 

James could not help but feel rather satisfied at the notion of Weatherby striking his brother regardless of the impropriety.

“I broke his jaw,” Weatherby said, managing to seem proud and ashamed all at once. “And several of his ribs.”

“It was wonderful,” Althea said. “Someone should have punched him years ago.” It was not, of course, a fitting way for a daughter to speak about her father and Althea met both his and Elizabeth gaze’s levelly as if daring them to say so.

“It certainly sounds like it,” Elizabeth said.

“My father claimed that Weatherby broke into his house and assaulted him and stole me,” Althea said. “It’s why we married in London, by special license. Weatherby was going to buy my own cabin and hire a maid so everything was proper. Then we could have married here with you all there. But my father might have gone to the law and so it seemed best we were married at once.”  

James nodded – even if a woman had been kidnapped once she was married there was no undoing that and it would have stopped any action Archibald might have taken.

“Well,” Elizabeth said mischievously. “I don’t think that was the only reason.” Weatherby and Althea both turned pink.

“Mother!” Weatherby said.

“Never mind,” Elizabeth said. “We will have the grandest wedding ball Port Royal has seen in some time. Your sister will sulk that you are stealing her thunder. And all the already out girls will cry that Weatherby is taken.”  This earned her another stern look from Weatherby. “But I know you will both be very happy here,” Elizabeth added – this especially for Althea.

 

Later when Weatherby had taken Althea up to meet his sisters, James could not help but ask. “Did you have to tease them so, I dread to think what Althea has put up with from my brother.”

“I did,” Elizabeth said. “Because even if they left London the instant they got married it will still not account for Althea being three months gone with child. It’s going to be much easier for them to tell us if they already know we suspect.”

“What?” James said. He had not seen a single sign of it.

“I have done it four times James,” Elizabeth said confidently. “You will have to trust me on this. And besides, if you think Weatherby would not have stood his ground against your brother happily you don’t know our son at all.” She tugged James close for a kiss. “I do hope he doesn’t think we’re going to be any different just because we’re to be grandparents,” she added.

James laughed. It seemed a ridiculous notion that Elizabeth could be a grandmother – she was as beautiful now as the day he had married her. Perhaps a little more because she was happy now. “I am sure he is hoping so,” he said. “But I am sure it a disappointment he will get over when he has his own household.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this and left kudos and comments. It is incredibly cheering to read them :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading - any comments and feedback are very much appreciated!


End file.
